


The Temptation of Sam Winchester

by lysanatt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Attempted Rape, D/s, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Spoilers, Post Season/Series 07, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/lysanatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is doing time in Hell, Detroit's new, experimental prison. Caught in the battle between rivaling gangs, Sam finds out exactly how brutal prison life can be. To survive, Sam must make the choice between two gang leaders, the cruel Crowley and the ruthless Lucifer. Lucifer, however, is the master of alluring offers, and soon Sam finds himself falling into temptation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Temptation of Sam Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : None, really, but fic draws upon canon aspects up to S8.
> 
>  **Warnings and content** : AU romance. Attempted rape (not between pairings), explicit violence, D/s, rough consensual sex, a bit of exhibitionism, hurt/comfort, hospitalized!Dean.
> 
> Written for J2 X-mas.

****

**The Temptation of Sam Winchester**

Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation?  
I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength—strength and courage—to yield to.

~ Oscar Wilde

 

**1\. The Storm Breaks Loose**

Demons had soft shoes, but the heavy pain from cracked ribs and a broken nose was the same no matter who did the kicking and what kind of shoes they wore. Sam curled in on himself in an attempt to protect his stomach and head. A violent jab in the kidneys made him cry out in pain.

"Again," someone demanded and another kick made the world disappear for a blessed second before it returned with neon-light pain and a crimson mess on the floor. Time seemed to come to a halt. Sam watched a glob of clotted blood, his own, slide down the chipped tiles. Time moved again, ever so slowly, hands coming closer from somewhere far away. Then time sped up and a fist connected with Sam's temple, his head snapping to one side. The crack when his skull hit the floor made pain surge through him again, making him almost blind from it. He fought to keep his eyes open, to look for a way out. Somebody threw a broken broom handle on the floor. It clattered, fell to rest and Sam reached for it, only to have his hand trapped under a blue canvas slip-on.

"Rip off his pants," the rough voice ordered. "Use the handle on him." Another pair of shoes and feet and legs were visible. "Hold him down and shove it in."

 _Not that. Not that too!_ Sam could handle the pain but not the humiliation. He tried to get up again, on the verge of vomiting. He wanted to get the Demons off his back, but he was too weak to fight back. Every bone in his body hurt. He cried out as he was pushed down, hands fumbling at his jumpsuit. _Thank God I'm not wearing a two-piece_ went through his mind before he disappeared into darkness.

He came to, only to realize that time had frozen yet again. He frowned. No, that wasn't how it was. _They_ had stopped, his violators. Sam's jumpsuit was ripped open, pulled half way off his body, hands still holding him down. Sam couldn't see anything but blue canvas and blood-splattered tiles. Everything was quiet. There was just the sound of his own erratic, harsh breathing. The tension was thick, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks loose.

Somebody spoke. Somebody else. Somebody far away.

"Enough."

"Man, don't mess with-"

"I said, _enough._ Do you need me to repeat myself? I doubt my boss will be enthusiastic about any delays, and we all know how he is when he's... disappointed." The man who spoke chuckled softly. "So, what will it be, Alastair?"

"Burn in hell, Zachariah, you disgusting excuse for a human being."

"Your language leaves much to be desired," the man called Zachariah said coldly. "In other words: scram or suffer. Don't think your attempt at raping the poor boy will be taken lightly by the higher-ups. But if you insist on your little enterprise here, by all means, go on. Just remember that there might be consequences. Not that I believe you'd like my opinion on the matter, though."

"He's a fish, what do you care?"

"Because he's doing first time, you feel the need to violate him with a broken broom handle? Makes sense. Couldn't you just fuck him like a normal person?"

Sam appreciated the sarcasm. He certainly appreciated the intervention—as much as he was able to appreciate anything except for not being beaten to death. It wasn't just anyone stepping in. Sam _knew_ the man who spoke in his favor. It was Zachariah, the Angels' enforcer.

"Crowley claimed him. The kid refused," Alastair growled. "He needs to be punished. Crowley's orders."

"Your choice." Blue shoes turned around and walked away, then stopped and made a one-eighty. "Oh, I forgot. Mr Alighieri is going to take this one under his wings. The boy is _his_. I'll advise strongly against further action from any Demon in this matter. Continue, and Mr Alighieri will have your entire family wiped off the surface of the earth by tomorrow noon. Yours _and_ Crowley's."

The room fell deadly silent once more. A door swung open and slammed shut. The sound of steps came closer, another pair of soft blue shoes. Sam tried to move, to see what was happening, but he couldn't. Everything hurt. He couldn't lift his head. The white light stung and all he could see was orange spots and blue slip-ons and blood, harsh colors whirling into a dizzying blur.

"Thank you for your cooperation," someone said in a kind, soft tone. Velvet. It sounded like velvet. "Leave." The voice wasn't just velvet. It was steel covered with it.

"I-" was the only syllable Alastair managed. Sam couldn't see exactly what happened, but the man with the velvet voice moved faster than lightning and next thing the Demon torturer was lying on the floor, unconscious.

"Anybody else wants to question my decision?" The piece of wood was thrown next to the Demon. It was bloody. "Please, speak up. I'll be happy to discuss it with any of you."

"No. Of course not." A few of the Demons who'd helped Alastair hurried to get out. They shuffled past Sam, Alastair dangling between them, still gone. There were sounds of doors opening and closing and of people cursing.

The communal bath fell quiet. Sam's attackers seemed to have disappeared and gentle hand pulled Sam's jumpsuit up to cover him. "Doctor or guard, Lucifer?" Zachariah asked, matter-of-factly.

Sam had almost forgotten how it felt to be cared for. There was so much hurt. Suddenly warm and strong arms surrounded him, carrying him away, making the pain bearable. The scent of spices and wood felt almost comforting. "Dean, help me," Sam murmured, words disappearing into the fabric of the orange prison jumpsuit, knowing that Dean couldn't come for him.

Ever.

The last thing Sam heard before he slipped into the blessed darkness was his savior's concerned reply. "Fetch a blanket. And Victor. We can trust him."

*

Sam woke up, still in Hell, bright light shining through bars and blinds, making his head hurt. He assumed that he'd been transferred to the hospital wing: the monitors and the blinking machines weren't a part of the standard inventory in Detroit's groundbreaking new correctional facility, _groundbreaking_ and _new_ meaning that the cells had decent beds and a TV.

A key clattered against the heavy metal bars that kept Sam from getting out, although being sore and patched up and beaten to within an inch of his life kept him from going anywhere too. Pity. The best chance for escape since he came here. Only breathing was too painful and so was keeping his eyes open, facts which to some degree undermined any ideas of running away.

"You all right there? Need something to take the pain?" It wasn't a nurse. A short middle-aged guard stepped inside Sam's room. His rolled-up sleeves revealed muscular arms. Stronger than he looked. "Took a right beating there."

"Didn't take anything," Sam croaked. He touched his face only to find that his left eyebrow had been patched up. Six, seven stitches. "Got more than I bargained for. There were too many of them."

"Should have taken Crowley's offer. Could have saved you."

"Urgh, no; I'm nobody's bitch. And it seems like I was saved anyway." Sam winced at the thought of the Demons' leader. Crowley was slick and creepy and all sorts of _no, thank you, I'll rather glue my asshole together with Super Glue that let you touch me_.

"I'm Victor, by the way," the guard said. "And you're Lucifer's bitch as of now. He's just gonna be more polite about it." Victor checked the monitors and the IV. "Sure you don't want anything?"

Sam let out a mewl as he moved too quickly. Cracked rib. He pressed a hand to his side. "Fuck, that hurt. And what do you mean, Lucifer's bitch?"

"That's the difference between them." Victor nodded in the direction of the cell blocks. "Crowley and his Demons... Crowley thought he was offering you something you'd need to accept, like bottoming for him in return for not being beaten up on a daily basis. Crude. Lucifer, on the other hand... He doesn't need violence. He doesn't need his Angels, to be honest, but he keeps them anyway, maybe that's just how he rolls." Victor looked away. "He doesn't offer. Not that he shies back from beating people up as you probably saw. It'll take time before the dentist is able to get Alastair's teeth back in place, I tell you." Victor scratched his nose, thinking a moment, getting back to the original topic. "Lucifer... Usually he just leaves the temptation out there in the open until it lures you in, and then, _bam_ , you're caught."

"Like you?" Victor was clearly Lucifer's man. Sam didn't judge. Dean and he had their connections, too, people they had saved who'd do anything for them when asked. People they wouldn't refuse and who couldn't refuse them. "And you're not even hiding it."

Looking slightly guilty, Victor made a short nod. "Like me. And quite a few others in here. Who'd believe you if you told?"

"Nobody, I suppose. But why does this concern me? Okay, so the dude saved me, and I'm grateful. But apart from saying thank you, Mr... what was his last name again?"

"Alighieri. Lucifer Alighieri. He had you investigated." Victor held up a hand as if to stop Sam from speaking. "And I'm not telling you anything Mr Alighieri doesn't want me to tell you, in case you were wondering."

Frowning, Sam wondered why Lucifer Alighieri had so much power, even inside a maximum security prison. He knew the name from somewhere. "Investigated? But how-"

"Money, Winchester. A lot of them. And we're not talking a Google search when it comes to investigation."

"Money, yeah, I get that." Suddenly it hit Sam. The Alighieri family wasn't mafia or a crime syndicate. They were _old_ money, the kind one had when one's family had hoarded them for centuries. "Lucifer. He's the guy who killed his brother some years ago, right? The businessman?"

"Obscenely rich businessman." As if Victor could read Sam's mind, he added, "He's up there on the Forbes 400, and not at the bottom of it. You know how the Federal Bureau of Prisons doesn't allow prisoners to conduct business from inside? Doesn't apply to Mr Alighieri. Even in here, behind the walls, that kind of money can buy you almost anything."

"Except for freedom," Sam said. Lucifer was trapped in here like everybody else. "And he's a gang leader? Why?"

"Except for freedom," Victor agreed. "Why he's got the Angels? Little fish like you get swallowed by sharks. Lucifer's ruthless. A shark. Of course he has his own army. You don't get where he is without being willing to do anything to stay in power. He's consolidating his position in here. One never knows when a real rival shows up."

"As I see it, he's in prison like the rest of us, so what's the difference between him and me? Except for the fact that I have like a hundred bucks to my name and he has, what, forty billions?"

"Makes quite the difference, doesn't it? I don't see Mr Alighieri here. Then again, he's not afraid to do his own dirty work if necessary."

Sam thought about it for a moment. Victor was probably right. "So what you're saying is that if I don't choose a side, join a gang and beat up some of the other prisoners, then it's gonna be like... this?" Sam indicated with a wave of his hand the state of his body.

"Yes and no. Worse, probably. Crowley isn't stepping down that easily, and not at all if you insist on impersonating Switzerland."

"Oh, thanks, I love cryptic." Sam frowned and it made his face hurt.

"Worse if you refuse Mr Alighieri. Nobody is going to help you ward off Crowley in that case. And infinitely better if you don't refuse the offer. No one will dare lay a finger on you if you're Lucifer's-"

"If I become-" Sam couldn't stop himself from making a face again. "-his... bitchboy. Why? What does he want with me?" It would never happen. There was nothing Lucifer could offer Sam to make that an acceptable outcome. Sam could take a beating, and he certainly could hand out a few if that was what it took to leave Hell without someone owning his ass. He was curious, though. "What makes you think Lucifer can come up with something that is too much of a temptation for me to decline? We're not even in the same wing..." Sam frowned, remembering where he'd been when he'd been attacked. "Not that it kept the guy from taking a stroll into my part of town."

"First of all," Victor said, no sign of glee in the way he looked at Sam, "you're going to have a change of scenery. As soon as you're better, you're moving into Mr Alighieri's cell."

" _What_? Can he do that, just like that?" Sam sat up, crying out as his ribs told him that moving at all was a very bad idea. Carefully Sam maneuvered himself back into horizontal position.

"That and more." Victor patted Sam's hand gently, almost fatherly. "I better go." He bit his lip as if there was something he needed to say. "As for the temptation... Mr Alighieri asked me to inform you that there is a decent chance that your brother will wake up at some point, given the right treatment. Mr Alighieri had his personal doctor and a few authorities on this type of damage evaluate Dean's case. Dean is likely to improve _if_ he's moved from his current environment. He needs better care. Care which Mr Alighieri will be pleased to provide for him, seeing it would make his... how was it you phrased it... _bitchboy_ very happy." Victor smiled a kind smile. "I'm in charge of Lucifer Alighieri's wing. See you around in a few days, Winchester."

Oh, holy fucking mother of God! Sam stared vacantly at Victor's back as he left. The door swung shut with a dull clunk. Sam chuckled helplessly. Victor had been right. Lucifer was just that good. It wasn't even a question of _no_ or _maybe_. It was very simple: Sam's ass for Dean's health? There was only one possible reply to that. Hell, yes! Getting Dean out of the worn-down hospital he was confined to, getting the best care money could buy in exchange? Yes, yes, yes! If it could save Dean, there was nothing Sam wouldn't pay.

Sam rubbed his face, carefully avoiding the patched-up areas. It wasn't as if Sam was adverse to getting a cock shoved up his ass; he'd been there, done that and liked it. He preferred, however, to choose his partners and not sell himself, but whatever floated Lucifer's boat. As long as there was a chance that Dean would improve, Sam would endure. And if Dean didn't get better, at least he'd receive more than the barely basic care he got now. Sam's confused chuckle turned into a full-throated laughter, partly powered by the embarrassment he felt. What did it take? One minute, one irresistible temptation, and Lucifer Alighieri had bought himself access to Sam's body.

Sam wasn't sure whether it made him a rent boy or just an idiot. Perhaps both. But at least he hadn't sold his soul.

Always good to keep something in reserve.

*

The corridor smelled of Lysol. Victor's steps echoed loudly as he strode down across the painted concrete floor, Sam in tow. Large, barred windows let in the sharp winter sunlight, making the temperature bearable. The new cell block was a friendlier place than Sam's old wing. The smell reminded him of the hospital and the few hours he'd been allowed, sitting with Dean before he'd been arrested. It had been stupid to use a credit card of... questionable origin, but he'd had no choice. It hadn't helped his case, though, that he had punched the officer who came to take him in. Instead of a few years in a white-collar-crime prison, it had gotten him five years in Hell.

Another memory took over. Darkness. Rain. Dean hadn't seen it coming. Hustling pool wasn't a low risk job. Sam shook his head as if to banish the image of Dean lying on the ground, blood pouring from his nose and ears and from the dark spot where the bat had hit him in the back of his head. No, there had been no other alternative than to use that platinum Amex at the hospital. At least Dean was alive, barely. And now there was a way, maybe, to get Dean back. Lucifer's offer meant that not only would Dean stay breathing, but he had a chance, a real chance, of actually _being_ alive.

Sam was pulled out of his musings as Victor stopped abruptly. "Watch it, Winchester!" Victor knocked on the cell door. "Mr Alighieri?"

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Sam was prepared for anything but the man who opened the door. Ignoring the guard, the man who'd bought Sam's body stepped into the corridor. "Sam," Lucifer Alighieri said softly. "What a pleasure to see you."

Lucifer was nothing like Sam had imagined. Not that he knew exactly what he expected, but the soft-spoken, smiling, almost-but-not-quite-handsome man wasn't it. Good haircut, expensive aftershave, friendly looking. A cold-looking psychopathic killer had been easier to handle, not that Sam had any firmly set ideas of how such a creature looked. Except that it was exactly what Lucifer Alighieri was. A murderer.

"Please, Sam." Lucifer stepped aside, touching Sam's arm briefly as if to usher him inside.

The man probably couldn't wait to get what he'd paid for. Sam didn't look forward to it, but at least Lucifer didn't seem cruel and he was, Sam had to admit, easy on the eye. Sam took a step inside, then stopped. "Oh my."

Lucifer nodded to Victor, dismissing him. "Yes. Your bed on the left. Your computer. Your books. Victor had your other belongings brought over. Shower and toilet behind that door. Anything else you need, let me know."

Sam looked at the comfortable beds and the brand new Lenovo ThinkPad. It was still wrapped in plastic. The toilet was a real bathroom with walls and a shower. God, no more taking a dump in public! Miracles did happen. "But-" Sam was thoroughly confused. The cell looked more like a room in a decent hotel. "This-"

"It's a bit overwhelming, I agree. Not what one'd expect in a prison. I think it was the University of Michigan who insisted on being in on the reforms here. You know, keeping in touch with the world outside, applying the most recent research on recidivists, working on honing skills and discovering talent, yada, yada, yada. Better environment and such. Only for those who might be redeemable, of course."

"Such as you," Sam said, not asking. "You didn't by any chance attend Michigan University?"

"Michigan's Ross School of Business. Summa cum laude. Paid for their new library a few years ago." Lucifer smiled a warm smile. "I was a board member before I had to leave; my brother Castiel has replaced me."

"And now you've paid for me." Sam winced. He shouldn't have said that. "But that's fine. Deal's a deal." He started unbuttoning his jumpsuit. He could just as well get it over with, it was just his body, not his soul or his heart, so no harm done. Sex with a decent looking man couldn't be that bad. "My bed, or yours?"

"Whoa! Sam... Sam." Lucifer held up a hand. "I think you misunderstand my intentions."

"I do?" Sam didn't think so. What he did think, though, was that he had just about had enough with prison and Lucifer and gang wars and Angels and Demons and the entire shit. He just wanted to get on with it, sealing their deal. "You pay for Dean's treatment, I let you fuck me and treat me like your woman. What is there to misunderstand?"

"Erm, all of it? Please, sit down, Sam."

Frowning, Sam pulled out the office chair. Leather and chrome. Soft. He sat down carefully, his ribs still making it difficult to breathe and move properly. "Okay."

"First of all, I assume you'd like to know that my brother has put things into motion in regards to your brother. I have a few documents you need to sign; you're Dean's next of kin and-"

"What's going to happen to him, to Dean?" Sam was relieved that he didn't have to ask for confirmation. He hadn't known for sure whether Lucifer would keep his promise or not. It made him relax a little bit, knowing that he'd bought Dean a chance.

"Castiel—that's my kid bro—will have Dean moved to a more appropriate hospital. Two leading specialists will take care of him there. He'll be in good hands. My brother... he's taken a personal interest in Dean's case. Don't ask me why. Cas gets those bouts of wanting to do things for other people occasionally. Works in Dean's favor, though." Lucifer pulled out a folder from a pile on the desk. Sam recognized the name of the place. "Everything you need to know is in here."

Sam opened the folder. He stared disbelievingly at the prospect. This wasn't the run-of-the-mill treatment Lucifer had found for Dean. It was the best care money could buy. If one had a truly obscene amount of them. Bill Gates-amounts. "You're really going to do this for me?"

"Yes. Not entirely charitable of me, I know." Lucifer fiddled underneath the table. "Drink? Unfortunately I've been unable to convince the warden that Kentucky Bourbon is a necessary aid for my redemption, so nothing with alcohol in it. Horrible man, that one, no principles, except that drinking is bad. Coke?" Lucifer held up a can.

Sam opened his mouth, then shut it. He nodded and was handed a chilled Coke from what appeared to be a small fridge hidden under Lucifer's desk. He repressed a need to pinch himself, just to check that he wasn't dreaming. Victor had hinted at it, but Lucifer definitely had the kind of power that few could match. Sam took a deep drink. Jesus, it tasted good. "Mmm," he moaned, unable to stop himself. It had been ages since he had a Coke.

"I have never in my life paid for sex, Sam," Lucifer said, changing the subject, no preamble. "Nor do I intend to. I am not certain whether I should feel offended by this, your preconceived notion, or merely think of it as a bit of thoughtless immaturity on your side."

"So your little... encouragement was created out of the goodness of your heart and puppy tails and whatnot? Right. Precisely how naive do you think I am?" Sam retorted, squeezing the Coke can until it crumbled. "Victor said you wanted me to be your bit-" Sam snapped his mouth shut once more, letting his mind catch up with what he meant to say. "That you wanted me to become your, erm..." A proper term eluded Sam entirely.

"Victor is a practical man. He told it like he saw it. He is not much of a thinker, a fact that usually works to my benefit." Lucifer sat down across the room, on the edge of his bed. The mattress dipped, promising softness that the thin foam mattress Sam had slept on didn't have. "You wouldn't have accepted my offer to come share my cell with me, had I not offered to give you your brother back. I had to offer you something precious in return for your precious company."

There was that. Of course Sam wouldn't have taken Lucifer up on the offer if Dean's health hadn't been at stake. "No. I wouldn't have." A wrinkle furrowed Sam's brow. "And how would you know that my company is going to be _precious_?" he snapped, getting angry. It was better than being confused. "You know nothing about me, except for what your detectives have dug up."

"Stanford, pre-law. Top grades even as a child, despite being dragged around in several states while studying. Mother died in a fire, girlfriend too. Father... absent. Attached to Dean almost unhealthily. Loyal to the extreme when it comes to family. No proper jobs. Instead you were doing credit card scams, hustling pool. Even ghost-hunting." Lucifer smiled. "That last one..." He shook his head. "If not precious, then at least your company surely is going to be entertaining."

"You are aware that you come across like a creepy stalker, right?" Sam wasn't truly shocked. He knew how to do research and so, clearly, did Lucifer. Or he knew whom to pay for it. Sam was glad that Victor had warned him that Lucifer had been poking at his secrets.

"Ah, honesty. I appreciate it. Sorry about the creepy stalking; I can't afford to take any risks, letting people I don't know get this close to me." Lucifer did look properly apologetic. "Let's skip the chit-chat, Sam. You're an intelligent young man. I won't offend you by lying to you." Lucifer pursed his mouth. "Despite my reputation I dislike lies. Funny how telling the truth mostly makes people think that one's either lying or being sarcastic."

Sam couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud, despite the awkward situation. "Dude, I agree. Usually nobody wants the truth. Scares them. Seems like people in general prefer to go through life, seeing only what they want to see."

"Now, _this_ is what I paid for. Intelligent conversation, if a bit colorful. And I'd like the option for more if you come willingly. If not... Dean will still have what I promised you. I suppose we can agree, then, that I have paid for the right to woo you, not for the right to have sex with you."

"Woo me?" The entire situation was too far out for Sam to continue taking it seriously. "Aw, and here I thought you just wanted my body."

"Well, you are an extraordinarily handsome young man. Can't deny that."

"It's the clothes, isn't it?" Sam grinned, irony lurking around the corner. "Orange is so my color." He raised an eyebrow, his smile fading. "You're flirting. I suppose I'm going to put up with that on top of everything else?"

"I want you to say yes to me, Sam, I won't deny that. But that yes must be given freely. I am not a rapist. Don't blame a man for using the legal tools he has access to."

Sam cringed at the idea of having sex with Lucifer, despite his apparent attractiveness. He thought briefly about what to do, how to approach the whole bought-and-paid-for situation. Sam didn't want to be ungrateful but he definitely didn't want to come across as pliant. Deciding that Lucifer's preferred course of honesty would be suitable, Sam nodded. "I won't blame you for trying. And... thanks for being understanding." Sam straightened up, a grave error: his ribs were still bothering him. The pain subsided and he was able to speak again. "Don't even begin to think flirting will get you anywhere. You gave me a way out and I'm taking it." Sam knew that Crowley wouldn't have been as courteous. "But being here with you beats being violated with a broom handle. Flirting I can live with."

"You'll have to. Can't really get away from me. The general idea of a prison." Lucifer shifted and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "Sam, you're going to be here for five years. You're young. Don't refuse already what you might need at some point."

Sam managed not to flinch or pull away. Lucifer had saved him from Crowley, and on top of that offered him a deal he could accept if not necessarily appreciate. Sam owed Lucifer nothing but respect. He did, however, owe himself to tread very, very carefully. Lucifer Alighieri surely wasn't used to being rejected and the calm, kind facade... Sam had seen what Lucifer was capable of when he beat up Alastair with the broom handle that the bastard would have shoved into Sam, had he not been stopped.

"All right. I- I'm not... I won't refuse you outright. Zachariah saved me on your order; I owe it to you to seriously consider your suggestion. I promise that I won't decline right away." Sam breathed in deeply, careful not to put too much pressure on his ribs. He knew he'd regret giving Lucifer as much as an inch. "You asked for a chance to convince me, and I'll give you that. Although I wouldn't wait with baited breath for it to happen if I were you."

Lucifer smiled. The smile was honest and warm. "Thanks, Sam." Lucifer let go of Sam's shoulder and let his hand fall. "You know... I never wanted a woman to take care of my pleasure. I don't want my lover to act like a woman, either. I'm gay. I want a man, not a bitch. My interest in you is honest, not a whim created by circumstances. There's something about you, Sam, something special. I knew that from the moment I laid eyes on you. You belong with me. I _want_ you to belong to me."

It was said with such conviction that Sam flinched. Lucifer clearly suffered from mild delusion. "I belong to no one, Lucifer."

"If you say so," Lucifer said quietly. "If you say so."

*

The first week Sam spent with Lucifer was, all things considered, pleasant. Lucifer turned out to be good company. He had a quirky humor, he wasn't afraid to tease and laugh and flirt and what Sam appreciated most: Lucifer exuded confidence and power, making Sam feel truly safe for the first time since he'd sat foot in Hell. Lucifer was the real thing: it wasn't a show he put on, it was just how he was, Sam was sure. With family backing him and money enough to pay for what his family didn't deliver, Lucifer certainly had nothing to prove. He was kind to the guards and chatted with the other prisoners on occasion, genuinely interested in his surroundings. Science, literature, politics, sports... Lucifer was clearly a highly educated man. He was probably also a bit crazy, but who'd Sam be if he didn't appreciate that aspect as well? Being a hunter didn't exactly require a clean sanity sheet; on the contrary.

Mostly Lucifer left Sam alone, leaving the cell during the day to go do whatever it was he was doing. Sam liked listening to Lucifer when he spoke with others, retreating to the corridor during the day as not to disturb Sam. Sam slept and got better, his cracked ribs healing. His wound scabbed and scarred and Sam felt good. He had a nice bed, a fast laptop, intelligent company and decent food. It could have been worse. He could have had his intestines ripped to shreds by a broken broom handle and then have to endure Crowley's advances when he'd healed. Yeah, Lucifer was definitely the better deal.

The only cloud on an otherwise clear sky was Zachariah. Sam had only met the man twice. The first time he'd been lying on the cold floor of the communal bath in a pool of his own blood. Sam hadn't really been in a chatty mood. He'd mostly been in a _please, God, don't let me die_ mood.

The second time he met Zachariah, he'd come by to plan and plot with Lucifer. They'd had whispered and murmured and Sam ignored the entire thing, lying on his bed, reading Kagel and Roth's _Handbook of Experimental Economics_ , one of Lucifer's many books.

Lucifer disappeared, leaving Zachariah to fend off any visitors. Zachariah stepped into the cell, pulling out Lucifer's chair as if it belonged to him. Sam studied him. Middle-aged, balding, a bit pudgy. How could a guy like this be Lucifer's enforcer? There had to be more to him than what met the eye.

"Sam." Zachariah smiled. It wasn't like one of Lucifer's smiles. This one, Sam was certain, was not honest. Dead fish eyes revealed no emotions.

"Zachariah." Sam put his book down, moving carefully to sit up. He didn't want to lie down when Lucifer wasn't in the cell; it made him feel exposed and weak. Sam had learned his lesson. He was wary. And Zachariah was slippery. Sam growled in pain as he tried to get up, one hand on the desk to support himself.

"Has he fucked you yet?" The question was like a slap in the face, unexpected and harsh.

"Excuse me?" Sam fumbled to get a grip on the side of the bed, pulling himself up. A taste of bile rose in his mouth. His stomach churned. He fought to school his expression into something that didn't show his disgust.

"I need to know." Zachariah didn't offer any explanation.

"No, I don't think you do." Sam was not going to volunteer anything. If Lucifer wanted Zachariah to know about what they did when they were alone, he could discuss it with Zachariah when Sam wasn't present. Somehow Sam didn't think that Lucifer would let Zachariah have that piece of information. He leaned against the desk, arms crossed, looking coldly at Zachariah without saying anything.

"A hot piece of ass like you? There's no way he hasn't plowed you good yet." Zachariah smirked. He probably thought that he could push Sam by being vulgar. Zachariah obviously didn't know Dean. Sam was immune to vulgar. He wasn't unaffected, though, by the appalling inquiry. He put on his best poker face and did nothing, knowing that it worked more effectively than anger.

"He's good, yeah? A good fuck? Surely it must be more pleasant than what Crowley would do to you, boy. He wouldn't ask nicely." Zachariah smiled brightly, making Sam want to wipe the expression off his face with a fist. "Crowley would not let you keep him waiting. He'd take you, fuck you into obedience."

Schooling his expression, Sam just stood there, seemingly unaffected by the way Zachariah slid his eyes down his body, hesitating a bit too long when they reached Sam's crotch. Unable to decide whether he should punch the man in the face or not, Sam reined in his anger. Before he'd decided, the sound of steps in the corridor pulled him into reality once more. "Out," Sam said, his voice very soft and very low. "Or."

Zachariah stood. "Nice to talk to you, Sammy. Let me know if you want anything from the infirmary. Ointment for your ass or something. Threats that actually work, maybe?" Zachariah left, shutting the heavy cell door behind him.

Wise decision. If there hadn't been hundred pounds of heavy steel between them, Sam would have done something very unfortunate. He sat down, dizzy. He really felt like throwing up.

What Lucifer hadn't managed in weeks, Zachariah had managed in two minutes: he'd made Sam feel like a worthless slut.

*

Sam saw Zachariah briefly a few times after the incident. Maybe Lucifer had picked up Sam's discomfort, for Zachariah didn't set foot in their cell again. Then again, maybe Lucifer was just a psychotic, possessive stalker, keeping anybody else away from Sam. It was a relief, though, that Sam was allowed the privacy of their cell. During meals and when they went outside, Lucifer's presence surrounded Sam like a protective shell. Except for Zachariah nobody looked at Sam, nobody spoke to him unless Sam initiated contact himself. The shift from earlier, before Lucifer, was significant. It was a relief to be able to walk freely, without watching his back all the time. Lucifer's Angels did that for him. There were always two of them trailing along. Not that Lucifer needed bodyguards; he could hold his own. Sam understood it was a question about marking territory. Crowley was mean. Maybe he was stupid, too, since he needed constant reminding that Lucifer was close to being untouchable.

It wasn't that Sam liked being babied; he had no intentions of letting the protective pampering continue—that would have to stop as soon as he was back to full strength. It was all right for a few weeks. Then he'd take care of his own shit, not needing Lucifer to do it. On the other hand, it probably didn't sit well with Crowley that Lucifer had taken what Crowley coveted. Sam hadn't been in Hell long but he knew that retaliation would come. Sooner or later it would come, and Sam had little doubt of what—or rather who—the target would be.

The days dragged by. Sam was less bored, now that he had Lucifer to talk to. And they did talk. Reluctantly at first; Sam had never told anyone about his life, living in a car, eating and sleeping in cheap motels when his and Dean's credit card scams worked. Lucifer listened, then commented that he probably wouldn't have survived. He had sounded appreciative, as if Sam's endeavors mattered. They didn't, they were just the desperate measures taken by two fatherless kids, trying to get by. It was nice, nevertheless, that Lucifer didn't dismiss it as worth nothing. To Sam it was everything. It was his life.

Lucifer, in turn, explained a bit to Sam about the multinational business conglomerates he owned. Sam thought it sounded like a cobweb, if such a web was made to attract money and the spider in the middle was named Lucifer. Sam wasn't in doubt that some of Lucifer's stories were true. But all of them? From what Lucifer told him, very little of importance happened in the world without Lucifer or another member of the Alighieri family being in on it one way or another. It all was a bit too fantastic for Sam. He was a simple guy.

Then there were the parts of their lives they _didn't_ talk about: they didn't talk about why Lucifer was in prison. It baffled Sam that Lucifer hadn't bought his way out of it if he truly was as powerful as he tried to make Sam believe. Nor did they speak about why billionaire Lucifer Alighieri would want a poor, uneducated delinquent like Sam Winchester for company. Sam would have liked that one explained to him—in detail. Sam was skeptical. He knew very little about the corporate world Lucifer spoke of, but he was sure that he wasn't anything like a trophy wife, suitable for a man like Lucifer. Sam really didn't understand why Lucifer wanted him.

Sam was all too familiar with bullshitting, having produced quite some himself, and he didn't know whether to call Lucifer's or not. Half of Lucifer's stories sounded like tall tales. Sam shrugged lightly. It shouldn't matter to him. He was in here, doing five to ten, and Lucifer was all he had standing between him and a gang rape or a knife in the back. Sam knew he should think less and thank Lucifer more for what he'd done for him.

They established a daily routine. Sam was going through Lucifer's library of finance-related literature and found it interesting. It was close enough to studying law to make him go on. Lucifer used most of his time taking care of business, as much as prison allowed him. In the evening they settled into one of the beds with rolled up comforters, drinking cups of tea or coffee. Neither of them questioned the other's need to be close. It was human nature. Didn't mean a thing. They watched television or had heated discussions about Sam's current read.

Despite the ease with which they had settled, comfortable both in each others' company, there was a sense of superficiality to it. They were playing a game. The problem was that Sam didn't know what kind of game it was or the rules that went with it. He just knew that the storm would break loose sooner or later.

*

Lying in bed, Sam was half awake. Lucifer was up early, wanting a shower before breakfast. He was singing. Loudly. Sam pulled the pillow over his head. It didn't help. He could still hear Lucifer. Okay, so it didn't sound too terrible, but he'd bloody kill his cell mate if he was forced to hear the same three lines of _Wake up, Little Susie_ one more time. Finally both the sound of running water and the singing stopped. Sam pulled the pillow off his face and sat up, hair in a mess. He got out of bed, looking at the clock. Fifteen minutes before breakfast. He knocked on the wall."Today, buddy! I'd like a shower, too."

Sam pulled off his t-shirt, throwing it on the bed. He grabbed his towel and turned around, only to bump into a half-naked Lucifer. The faint scent of soap and aftershave and warm skin overwhelmed his senses. Sam stepped back. Mistake. The towel hung low on Lucifer's hips and it was a sight that Sam had to appreciate. He couldn't stop himself from ogling. He was merely human.

"I see you have developed an interest in towels," Lucifer said, smirking. "Want to take a closer look?" Lucifer made a show out of looking up and down Sam's naked chest. "My, you should ditch the t-shirts, Sammy. There should be a law against you wearing clothes above the waist."

"Glad you like the view," Sam said. "If I sleep naked, will it make you stop singing while you shower?"

"Stop? It'll make the traffic come to a halt in three states. And I won't be able to sing because I would probably sit and gape at your hotness." Lucifer stretched, and the towel loosened a bit. Sam took it as a sign that he should get that shower before... before he did something irreversible. Or before Lucifer did.

"And here I thought you didn't want me," Sam teased, regretting it almost before the words had left his mouth.

"Yeah, clearly I don't. Let me drop the towel and I'll show you how much I don't want you." Lucifer heaved a sigh. "If you're not out of sight in ten seconds I refuse to take responsibility for my actions. Beat it, Winchester."

"Sweet revenge. I'll do this every morning until you promise not to sing that horrible song all the time."

"And that's a threat, how, exactly?"

"Erm-" There was that. Sam made the mistake of breathing in near Lucifer and he could barely keep himself from taking yet another breath, another helping of Lucifer's scent. "I'll go shower." Sam was glad he'd kept his pajama pants on. He didn't want to react to Lucifer, but he couldn't help it.

"Clever boy." Lucifer looked disappointed and Sam wished he was able to wipe that expression off his face.

Sam's defenses were beginning to crumble and there was nothing he could do about it.

*

"They need to hire another chef,' Lucifer grunted, glaring at the scrambled egg on his plate. "This is disgusting."

Sam poked at the yellow mess with his fork. It stank. "You can't by any chance order in at this hour, right?"

"No, their earliest delivery is around five years from now. If you're lucky. And don't eat that," Lucifer warned, eying the dish suspiciously. "Not until they've caught the cat."

The scrambled eggs did smell acidly of cat pee. "Perhaps we can have cat stew instead if they do? Can't be worse. I'm not picky."

"You're not?" Lucifer put down his fork. "Seems to me that you are really good at refusing what might be good for you. And beneficial for your health and possibly also good for your skin."

"Leave the shameless self-promoting until after breakfast, yeah? Makes me want to vomit."

"No, dear, it's the eggs."

"Call me 'dear' again, and you'll need a doctor to help you remove your fork from where I'm going to put it."

"Mmm, dirty talk, and this early? Do continue. Tell me where you wanna stick what again? I can get us some lube if you-"

"I hate you." Sam stated without any venom behind the words. He rolled his eyes. "I think I want to file a complaint for sexual harassment. I'm sure someone somewhere will notice it; the way you carry on it'll be at least fifty pages. Funny how you seem to think it's getting you anywhere. Talk about optimism." Sam was so focused on Lucifer and their friendly banter and flirting that he didn't see Zachariah the sleaze-bag sneak up on them. Sam hadn't seen Lucifer's enforcer for some time, and he felt little need to remedy that.

"Morning, Lucifer. Sammy, good to see you," Zachariah chirped, annoyingly chipper. "Kitchen's not exactly three star Michelin this lovely day." He put his tray down on the table and pulled a chair over.

Lucifer scrutinized Zachariah. Sam could see that Lucifer was irritated. It wasn't comme il faut to approach Lucifer before coffee without being asked. "What do you want, Zach?"

"The food. Anything we can do?"

To Sam it sounded like a weak excuse. Zachariah had an agenda, and the quality of their breakfast wasn't it.

"I don't know about you, but _I_ -" Lucifer certainly hadn't liked Zachariah's including _we_ , "-can speak with the cook. Persuade them make a second helping. Without the cat pee."

Lucifer wasn't pleased. Whether it was the food, Zachariah or both, Sam didn't know. Both, probably.

"Watch Sam's back," Lucifer demanded and slammed back his chair. "There's over fifty hungry men here, and it'll be so much fun if we all have to go without breakfast. This is how riots are born. I'll talk to the cook."

"With pleasure." Zacharia beamed, watching Lucifer walk away. "Take your time, perhaps a more permanent solution, new cook," he called out, far too pleased with himself to Sam's liking. Zachariah turned around, looking at Sam, the fish eyes betraying nothing. "Finally alone," he said, the false smile plastered on his face. "You're an elusive man, Sammy."

Having no intentions whatsoever to talk to Zachariah, Sam knew he couldn't make a scene, punching the enforcer in the face like he wanted to. It was Lucifer's standing on the line, and Sam knew immediately why Zachariah had pulled this little stunt in public. Either Sam talked to him, or he'd put Lucifer's status at risk, exposing a weakness to Crowley. Sam had to keep it low, no matter what. Zachariah was an A grade creep, but Lucifer still trusted the man, so Sam had to tread carefully.

"Call me Sammy again, and I'll rip you a new one," Sam said casually, almost as if he was conversing about the weather. "And stay away from me. I'm not going to talk to you." Sam had little need for a repeat of Zachariah's inquisitive poking around in his life.

"Oh, so sugar daddy is jealous and has forbidden you to talk to other men." Zachariah chuckled. "And here I thought I could do business with you." Winking, Zachariah made a movement with his hand, as if he was jerking off.

"Oh, sure. Sounds fun to me. Except for the fact that I don't do it for money and I certainly don't do _you_. Perhaps if you were the last man on Earth and there were no more sheep." Slapping a calm expression on his face to cover up the sensation of pure anger, Sam smiled graciously. "It must be so humiliating for you to always have to pay for sex. You can't help the way you look or the obvious turn-off it is that you lack entirely when it comes to charm and intellect."

Zachariah's smile slid off his face like melting butter. Finally. His true face. The dead eyes were suddenly alive. "You insolent little brat," Zachariah hissed. "Do you really think that Lucifer truly wants you? You're his toy, nothing more. His dirty, little toy. Who do you think will protect you when he's done playing with you, hm? You're nothing but the tight ass he sticks his cock into because it's better than using his hand. You should seek protection elsewhere, Sammy. One day Lucifer won't be here. Might come sooner than you think."

Unable to say as much as a word to stop the venomous stream from Zachariah, Sam simply leaned back in his chair, letting the filthy tirade pour over him without as much as a flinch. Every word felt like a stab, but Sam simply shook his head, reached for his coffee and drank some of it, pretending not to care. Sam had nothing to say to Zachariah.

The casual attitude made Zachariah go off again. He got so close that Sam could feel his breath on his face and Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust. Zachariah was truly a petty little man. "You should know better than to act prissy and arrogant, you slut." Zachariah informed him. "Who do you think will have sloppy thirds when Lucifer and Crowley are done with you, boy? Yeah, that's how it's going to be. You'll belong to me. Lucifer has promised me your slutty ass when he's tired of fucking you. And my, am I going to teach you manners, you filthy little cunt!"

So that was how it was? Zachariah was jealous; he certainly didn't sit well with him to be second to Lucifer. He was also a liar, for Sam knew deep down that Lucifer would never give him up to Crowley or Zachariah. No matter what, Lucifer would never do that. Sam was somewhat shocked that he'd been right about the enforcer all the time for it had been better if he'd been mistaken. Zachariah was a snake, a liability to Lucifer, only leeching on to him to gain power for himself, Sam was sure. Eventually he could become a real danger; there was an underlying threat that Lucifer's downfall would happen sooner rather than later. Sam could think of nothing as despicable as Zachariah. The man could call Sam names all he liked, but he needed to keep his shit from Lucifer.

It was like a punch in the gut, this sudden need to protect Lucifer. Sam knew that he would not let anyone harm the man who had saved him. He liked Lucifer, he liked the life they had, prison not included. He liked living with Lucifer, to talk with him. And Zachariah was not going to ruin the only good thing Sam had going for him. God knew what the backstabbing little creep had told Lucifer about him, who knew what else Zachariah had done to tear them apart. Breathing out calmly, putting down the cup on the table, Sam stood. He did not want to waste as much as another word on the maggot.

He towered over Zachariah, staring coldly at him. Zachariah glared at Sam as if he thought it made Sam afraid of him. It didn't. Then Sam spat in Zachariah's face, a small wet glob, signifying Sam's utter disgust with the man. Sam turned around and left the cafeteria without looking back.

*

"What the hell was that about?" Striding into the cell, slamming the heavy door behind him, Lucifer was in Sam's face immediately. "You... spat on him? I return and I find Zach in a snit with saliva dripping from his nose. Do you care to explain that to me?"

Okay, so Sam had known that there would be a confrontation since Lucifer hadn't seen the charming side of Zachariah that Sam had just encountered. "He offended you. And me." Sam tried to keep calm. It wouldn't do him any good whining about how hurt he'd felt, how afraid he suddenly were that Lucifer didn't want him any longer. "He threatened you."

"I get that you think he did."

"What's that supposed to mean?" A deep furrow marred Sam's brow as he frowned.

"He asked you why you didn't socialize much and you went at him? Not on, Winchester. He's my right-hand man. What am I supposed to do now? I can't afford the two of you fighting."

Clutching the armrests of his office chair so hard they creaked, Sam tried to rein in his anger. "Is that what he told you? So he conveniently left out the part where he called me a dirty whore and you my sugar daddy, implying that you were tired of me and that you would like to pass me on like used goods to Crowley and to Zachariah himself?" Sam took a gulp of air, ready for another argument. "He said he wanted... _me_. He'd take me when you... when you weren't here any longer."

"He surely was joking. Zachariah would never say such a thing," Lucifer interceded. He went over to Sam's desk, leaning against it. "I know him, Sam."

"You and I have very different notions of the idea of _never_ , Lucifer." Sam gave up sitting down. He had look Lucifer in the eye, standing up to him. In this, and in everything else. Sam got up mirroring Lucifer's position, one hip leaning against the desk. "You _think_ you know him. But if this is your response you really, really don't and what's worse, it's going to be your downfall, for I've never seen a crown prince so eager to take over the kingdom. You know the 101 of hostile take-overs. Knife, meet back."

"Are you out of your mind? Zach _has_ my back, he's not looking for a chance to stab me in it." Lucifer wasn't angry any longer. He looked worried. "Should I book an appointment for you at the psych ward?"

"You trust him explicitly, I get that. Except this shit... it proves that you shouldn't. And worse, it proves that you don't trust _me_." Sam poked a finger into Lucifer's chest, making Lucifer flinch. "You fucking _dare_ tell me I'm seeing things."

"I'm not the one who hunts ghosts for a living. Yeah, I think you might be seeing things. Or that you have misunderstood what Zach was saying."

That was low. "Fuck you, asshole." Sam would have walked out and slammed the door behind him, only it would be counter-productive. There was no place to go. "Christ, I can't believe I actually started to like you!" The small world that Sam had built for himself was falling apart at the seams. Feeling tears well up into his eyes, Sam retreated to the tiny bathroom. "Don't talk to me again," he sneered, covering up the tears with anger. "Ever." He shut the door and sank down on the toilet seat, covering his eyes with his hands.

Sam cried for the first time since Dean went into a coma and he went into Hell.

He didn't know for how long he sat in the darkness, cramped up in a space that barely contained his frame. All he knew was that he'd cried all the tears he had in him. All there was left was this huge emptiness. Lucifer hadn't believed him. Maybe it was true, what Zachariah said, that Sam was a commodity, a step up from a hand. Was that really all Lucifer saw? Sam shook his head in denial. It couldn't be right. Lucifer wouldn't betray him like that.

Would he?

Unable to act, Sam stayed in the small bathroom. If he stepped outside, he'd have to face reality: he was a prisoner, forced to stay in a cage with a man who didn't believe in him, who'd called him a liar. A man who kept him like a toy, barely regarding him as more than a human plaything. If Lucifer had ever had any redeeming qualities, Sam's search for them ended here. If Lucifer let go so easily of the slight that had befallen Sam, then they'd have nothing left to say to each other.

 

**2\. The Eye of the Storm**

Sam might have dozed off. He woke up, his cheek icy where it pressed against the wall.

"Sam?" There was a tentative knocking on the door. "Sam, please? You're going to catch a cold if you insist on sitting there. And what's worse, I'm going to piss my pants."

Squeezing his eyes shut in the darkness, Sam shuddered. He _was_ cold. He was sore and tired and he wanted... he wanted it to stop! Everything that had happened the last couple of months closed in on him. Dean's injuries. His arrest and the case. Imprisonment. The rape attempt. The powerlessness. The only person who'd offered him comfort and care was Lucifer. The levee was breaking and Sam knew it. Lucifer had been trying to wear him down with kindness and their argument and Lucifer's mistrust hit so much harder because of it.

Ever so slowly Sam reached up and pushed the door open. It was all he could do, the only step forward he was able to make. The pale winter daylight hardly lit up the small room as Lucifer kneeled in the doorway.

"C'mon, baby, you can't sit there forever." Lucifer reached out, hesitantly, waiting for Sam to refuse him. Sam didn't. He didn't want to.

"Still angry with you," Sam murmured. "You're a total ass. And I'll let you piss on the floor if you call me _baby_ again."

"Sure I'm an ass. Won't argue on that one; I made a living from it. Maybe you'd like some coffee and a blanket?"

"You're sucking up to me." Sam really would like the coffee. And the blanket, and preferably also a massage, for his back was destroyed by sitting like he'd been sitting for the last couple of hours.

"No, I'm offering you coffee. There's a difference between that and sucking up to someone. Now, what we need is to talk. Honeymoon's over, sweetheart, welcome to the real world." Lucifer got up and held out a hand. "Please, baby."

"I'm going to kill you." Sam sneered, unable to whip up any real anger on the endearment. He was cold and tired and sore, and if Lucifer wanted to remedy any of it, Sam was so in.

Seated in his office chair, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands, Sam waited for Lucifer to take the first step. Sam had been right: the time they had spent together had been the quiet before the storm, or maybe the eye of it. It had been pleasant to be pampered and protected. Prison, however, was not an animal which could be tamed by avoiding the unpleasant reality. Sam had known. He was still trying to be Switzerland, avoiding conflict. He knew from experience that the world didn't work that way. Victor had warned him that being neutral was impossible. With two strong gangs fighting for dominance, with leaders such as Lucifer and Crowley? Sam would be nothing but a casualty of war. How Zachariah fit into the equation, Sam didn't know, but he was certain that if he let Zachariah get away with whatever it was he was doing, it'd cost Lucifer some of the power that he needed to stay ahead of Crowley. Lucifer was stronger than the Demon leader, but Crowley had money and followers, too. He wasn't without options when it came to taking Lucifer down. And Lucifer wasn't invincible. He wasn't immortal and money could easily buy a murder in Hell.

The honeymoon was over indeed. Sam needed to get over himself and step up to the challenge. He'd given himself to Lucifer, and for all the man had done for him, Sam could repay him by being his loyal supporter. Zachariah's days as enforcer was over if Sam had anything to say in the matter, and he'd make sure that he had. He'd make sure that Lucifer took his opinion into consideration. Hell, Sam would personally find him a new man for the job, if that could get Zachariah off their backs. His _and_ Lucifer's. Zachariah was a liability.

There was no reason to drag out the confrontation. "It's not the first time he's approached me like that. You were right when you thought I was uncomfortable with Zachariah from the beginning." Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Sam looked at Lucifer as if daring him to contradict him. "One of the first days I was here. He asked me whether you'd fucked me. Said he needed to know. Wanted to know what we'd done together. I asked him to shove it."

"You do understand why this is hard for me to believe?" Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Lucifer blew out a stream of air, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've known Zach for ages, even before he ended up here. He studied at UMich, too, finished his degree in my freshman year. He's married... Never expressed any interest in other men. I-"

"You. You don't know me. You don't trust me, is that what you're saying? You think I'd lie to you about this?"

"But I do. Know you. That is why I'm torn, Sammy. I can't figure out what you-"

Repeating what he'd said before, Sam underlined his argument, pointing a finger at Lucifer. "You _don't_ know me. Don't think you do, just because I've told you a few stories from my life. Because you had me investigated."

Lucifer threw his hands up in defeat. "I thought taking you in would be easy. Seems like I'm in over my head," Lucifer confessed. "So maybe you're right. I don't know you." He regarded Sam, head tilted. "This is what I get for thinking about you all the time."

"Very flattering, but does it get us anywhere? You could always hoist your brain two floors up, yeah? That'd make you able to keep your shit together. Not thinking with your dick?"

That sent Lucifer into a coughing fit, making him tear up. "You said you liked to be direct. But-" Lucifer laughed and dried his eyes. "This is why I like you, Sam. You don't take crap from anyone, least of all me. You're the part I miss; someone to constantly question what I do. A conscience, you might say. Nobody else has ever had the balls." Reaching out, Lucifer put a hand on Sam's knee. It lay there, warm and comforting. "Let me get to know you, Sam," Lucifer said. "Really know you; you won't regret it. At least let's be friends again."

Lucifer's hand lay like a small reminder of what they could have if Sam allowed it. "Friends? Doesn't that entail that I get to know you, too? I'm really flattered that I matter to you, but how am I going to trust you? You let Zach the douchebag walk over me like I was his doormat. You don't trust me; you called me a liar to my face." Sam rubbed his leg just above the spot where Lucifer's hand lay. He felt so torn. Sam looked at Lucifer for a moment, quiet. He couldn't deny that he was attracted to him, but was it enough let Lucifer have what he asked for? Sam didn't know. He needed more, needed Lucifer to give him more of himself.

San spoke again, trying to sort out what it was that he was missing. "You don't come across like a person who willingly shares his innermost secrets, Lucifer. You can call it being friends again as much as you like; fact is that you're just the guy who thinks he owns me, no matter how much you try to deny it. Seems one-sided to me."

"No, Sam! I don't. That's not... I thought we'd covered that already: I don't usually share, but I don't own you, you told me that already. _I belong to no one_ , you said." There was desperation in Lucifer's voice, as if he was afraid losing what he'd already gained. "Maybe I'm not so good at being anybody's friend. Too possessive, too cautious." Lucifer pulled back his hand, looking down at the floor, his shoulders rounded. He looked like defeat personified. "I'm sorry about Zach; if you're right-"

"I'm right. Imply that I'm lying again, and I'll make you regret it."

"I regret it already. Sam, I'm sorry. Zach... he should know better than to approach you when I have asked him not to." Lucifer said. "You didn't look comfortable with him to begin with and I wanted him to stay away from you."

"And you did nothing?"

"Sam, business is not only knowing things about money, economics. It's about knowing people. Knowing what they want. What make them tick. What makes them uncomfortable. I kept Zach away from you because of it. That's what I do. Watch people to find out what I can give them that makes them come back for more. "

"Manipulate them, you mean?"

"That's another word for it, but yes. And I read you right? The first time Zach was in here, in the cell, you didn't want him close."

"Getting off on this, are you?" Sam lashed out. "Using people as your chess pieces? You're not participating in life, you're playing God. Fucking ask me next time instead of treating me like a child who can't make his own decisions."

"I understand that you are angry," Lucifer said calmly. "And I understand why. I was too busy watching you and I-" Lucifer squirmed. Maybe he wasn't used to explaining himself. Sam didn't think he was. "I forgot to watch Zach. I forgot to keep up with what makes _him_ tick. People change; sometimes one small temptation is enough and I should know. What I'm saying is that... as much as it pains me, I believe you. I'll deal with Zachariah."

"If that's an apology, it sucks." Sam crossed his arms in front of him, setting a barrier between them. He wasn't sure he was ready to accept an apology, not yet. Lucifer deserved to dangle a bit. "And I can deal with Zachariah myself, thank you very much."

*

"I apologize. Is that better? I'm so sorry, Sam, I really am." Lucifer was leaning against the door frame, holding an apple. He held it out. "Bribe."

"Good afternoon to you, too, Lucifer." Sam looked up from the book he'd been reading. Neumann and Morgenstern's _Theory of Games and Economic Behavior_. Sam felt more benevolent after a good night's sleep and half a day without Lucifer getting in his face. "And you're trying to buy my forgiveness now?"

"I know. It's awful. But I'd like to be forgiven. I rarely get the chance. And it's a very nice apple."

"You are rarely forgiven because you never apologize for anything, that's why." Sam held out his hand, palm up. The apple was indeed large and it smelled delightfully aromatic. Sam's mouth watered. "Gimme. Which side is poisoned, by the way?"

"Ah, don't go Snow White on me; I couldn't possibly handle the Disneyness! So... I'm forgiven?" A cocker spaniel puppy had a more calculating look than Lucifer, pleading.

The apple tasted delicious. Sam chewed, not wanting to let Lucifer off the hook instantly. "If you promise to stop playing games. Stop hiding things from me. Give me a bit of you, the real you."

Ignoring Sam's obvious request, piling pillows and blankets up against the headboard, Lucifer sat down, one leg on the bed, one on the floor. "Ah, that was nice. You like the apple? Let me know if you need a kiss to wake you up."

"Stalling much?" Sam was somehow amused that Lucifer was only human. He was better at hiding it than most.

Not as much as flinching, being called on, Lucifer pursed his mouth. "A bit. What you are saying is that if I wish to win your trust and your affection, I need to give you something similar in return?" Lucifer leaned forward. "Seems like a game to me." Lucifer pointed at the book had borrowed. "Game theory? Fine, let's play. Quid pro quo, Sammy."

Sam could smell the weak scent of Lucifer's aftershave. It was the same scent that he'd smelled when he was carried from the communal showers to the hospital wing. It made him feel safe. Sam tilted his head and looked at Lucifer, really looked at him. Lucifer was strong, wiry. So much power in a relatively unassuming package. Sam leaned forward, his hands folded, elbows on his knees. He tapped at his lip with his index fingers. "We're playing your screwed-up version of truth or dare, then? Is that what we're at?"

The corners of Lucifer's mouth curled up in a smile. "It wasn't what I had in mind, but anything to please you, Sammy. I'm not twelve; I do, however, like the entertainment value."

"Don't call me that. Or sweetheart, or dear, or baby, for that matter. I'm _Sam_. Truth or dare?" Sam didn't mind playing this strange game with Lucifer. It guaranteed some kind of equal exchange of information. He didn't care that it was stupid. The entire set-up of his life had moved into the range of the surreal anyway, so he could just as well take the chance.

"Truth." Lucifer smirked. "You should have known better. I always tell the truth. Just ask the right questions."

"Am I a toy to you?" Sam had thought that many times since Victor had been to see him for the first time.

Lucifer made an arrogant snort. "I thought you'd be smarter. I have answered that already. No. My interest is genuine. The real thing, Sammy. Truth or dare?"

"Stop it. Truth."

"Will you do anything for your brother?"

Sam didn't think lying would do him good. "I thought you'd be smarter too. Yes. You think I'd be here otherwise?"

"Unfortunately, no." Lucifer looked displeased.

Sam shrugged. "You asked. Not my responsibility if you don't like the answer. Truth or dare?"

"Dare." Lucifer leaned back against the wall, smirking.

Oh, fuck. There wasn't much Sam could dare Lucifer with in a prison cell. The only thing he could think of was to explore to what extent Lucifer's power reached into the world outside. Lucifer might have bought Victor and a few others inside the walls. Outside? That was different. "Anything?"

"I'll lose if I say no. Alighieris do not lose. Yes."

"I'd like to study. I'm stuck here and I'll be bored. I dare you to-"

"Hand me the phone." Lucifer held out his hand. "Desk, top drawer."

Lucifer had a bloody smartphone? Why hadn't Sam noticed? Clearly Lucifer had never used it in Sam's presence. Probably because none of Lucifer's business transactions was Sam's business anyway.

"Can't very well run my company without it. Got permission, of course. Calls are monitored, though. One of the perks of being in an experimental facility."

"Of course." Sam rolled his eyes. Okay, so Lucifer had one or two extraordinary privileges. Sam handed the phone to Lucifer.

"Stanford, Princeton or Michigan?" Lucifer asked almost casually. "I recommend UMich. Public Ivy, but don't let that put you off. There really are things money can't buy. Academic brilliance, for instance."

Baffled, Sam managed a weak reply. "Er- Michigan?"

"Course of study?"

"Economics." It was a game, it had to be. Sam couldn't take this seriously. He could of course have picked law school. It was make believe, and in make believe it wouldn't be a hindrance, practicing law, that he'd fiddled a bit with a few credit cards and done time for it. "Or-"

"Shh," Lucifer demanded, interrupting Sam. He punched a number on his phone. There was a short pause before somebody picked it up at the other end. "Castiel?"

Castiel? Oh, Lucifer's brother. The Michigan University board member. Maybe he should have picked Stanford anyway? Still, it was too surreal to take seriously.

"Sam wants to study at UMich. Economics. Make it happen." Lucifer's face became soft and he smiled, looking as if he were far away in his thoughts. "Yeah, baby bro. Thanks. Yeah. Whatever they want. Give them a bloody campus if they demand one, but keep it small. I'm not asking the impossible. They get an extraordinarily talented student." Lucifer ended the call and put the phone down on the bed next to him. He smirked up at Sam. "Truth or dare?"

Sam closed his eyes. "Fucking hell!" Had Lucifer just offered to build a campus? For him? "This is a joke, right?"

"You said _anything_. I wanted to give you a gift, Sam. I want to give you everything. So now you've got the next five years cut out for you. UMich doesn't appreciate slackers and you still can't leave to attend lectures. Going to be hard." Lucifer continued, seemingly understanding very well what Sam was thinking, "No, Sam. It isn't a joke."

"Just like that? You can actually do that? Are you fucking mad?" Sam felt as if he'd been pulled into another dimension, everything a bit out of focus. "This is insane. And your brother... he knows that you're... It sounded as if he knows what... I am. What you're..." Sam closed his mouth before more jumbled nonsense came out of it.

"He does, and yes, just like that. I intend to keep you. Of course Castiel knows that I want you. He's my brother."

"You're stark raving mad." Sam was rarely surprised and this? _Surprise_ didn't cover it.

"The jury didn't buy the insanity defense, so no, I'm not. Truth or dare, Sam?"

Sam took a deep breath and let the air out slowly. He had to calm himself. This was really too much. A few weeks ago he'd had nothing, he'd been nothing. No future, no brother, nothing. Now he had a bright future ahead of him after he'd done his time, and Dean was taken care of by specialists. Lucifer had asked nothing in exchange but his company, It was just too much. Sam hadn't asked for _this_. Okay, so he had, at least for the degree, but still. Strangely enough, Lucifer's confession that Castiel knew about them—not that there was any _them_ —cemented Sam's ability to trust his cell mate. He couldn't ignore that Lucifer truly had offered him everything _and_ kept his promise when Sam had asked for the impossible. Lucifer really was willing to hand over the world to him. It was not only flattering. It was touching. Sam still needed time to think about what it meant, about where their relationship was going, but one thing he knew he could give Lucifer without selling out. "Dare."

There was an odd expression of respect in Lucifer's eyes. He squinted, his brow wrinkling. "You'll give me that kind of power over you? Willingly? Just after you tested me?"

Sam realized how transparent he was. "Sorry. You're right. It was a test. Didn't think that... Won't do that again. I mean, there's a limit to how many campuses the state can hold." Sam bit his lip and sent his best puppy eyes at Lucifer.

"God, I'm so weak for that expression," Lucifer admitted. "It was dare, not _truth_. You didn't have to tell me that you had me on trial there."

"I know," Sam said. "So... dare it was. I- I trust you not to ask for something I cannot give."

"That you _will_ not give," Lucifer corrected. "No matter what, you have just given me something very precious to me: your trust." He held out a hand across the small space between the bed and the chair Sam was sitting in. "I dare you to come here."

Sam didn't argue, he took Lucifer's hand without hesitancy. Sam's hand trembled nervously as Lucifer's entangled his fingers with his. Pulled closer, Lucifer guided Sam down to sit on the bed.

"A kiss. Just this once," Lucifer said. "And I won't ask that of you again, not until you give in willingly, no games, nothing but free will."

"All right," Sam said. He could do that. Hell, he wanted to; it had been so long since he'd been touched in ways that meant anything but pain and distress. "A kiss I can manage. Willingly."

"You've been with a man before?" Lucifer stroked Sam's fingers gently. "Kissed, at least?"

"It's nice of you to ask, but I'm sure your investigation was thorough enough to dig up that particular information. Yes, I have. I'm bi-. I'm sure you know that too." Sam couldn't stop himself from sending Lucifer a glare.

"I promise to stop snooping into your secrets. A man in my position can't be too care-"

"And what position is that," Sam growled, feeling a sudden need to make sure Lucifer acknowledged that Sam wasn't a weak pushover, that he had a position as well, one that didn't include people like Lucifer spying on him. He leaned forward, hovering over Lucifer almost threateningly. "Incarcerated for manslaughter? Doesn't seem that enviable to me. Quite on the bottom, position-wise, that's how I see it."

Lucifer made a choking sound. "Are you aware how utterly hot you look when you're pissed off?"

Sam couldn't think of anything Lucifer could have said to make him snap any faster. Somehow the comment made Sam unable to think clearly, all he could think of was that if Lucifer goaded him like that on purpose, he had no responsibility for the outcome. So Sam let go of Lucifer's hand and pulled him forward by the neck, crushing his lips against Lucifer's, hard, cruel, demanding; the kiss more an act of dominance than actual kissing.

Getting what he'd asked for, Lucifer kissed back, as fierce and passionate as Sam. His tongue pressed deep into Sam's mouth, a slight taste of Coke and coffee. Greedily Sam sucked hard, pressing his own tongue against Lucifer's; a tiny battle, neither of them wanting to give in. Sam moaned. It felt too good, anger and pleasure mingling. Lucifer pulled Sam against him, his hand caressing Sam's back. Moaning weakly, Lucifer's kiss became deeper, slower, more intimate.

It was the tenderness that broke him. Sam thought he could do this, throw Lucifer some scraps to placate him, to give him some sort of reward for his efforts. It didn't work. It really didn't. Sam whimpered, squirming in Lucifer's arms, pushing against Lucifer's chest. "I can't," he panted, pulling out of the kiss. Not like this, not when Lucifer wanted him so badly. He didn't want to lie to Lucifer, not even with a kiss. "I'm sorry. I just- no."

"It's all right, Sam." Lucifer didn't let go right away, but continued to stroke Sam's back, calming him down. "It's all right."

Giving in to his need for touch, Sam just sat there and let Lucifer comfort him. He felt so confused. Lucifer's scent, the same scent that had surrounded him when Lucifer carried him into safety that night when Alastair had attacked him, made Sam have an almost Pavlovian response, a deep need to lean into the caress, to offer Lucifer everything he wanted. "I want to," Sam whispered, unsure whether Lucifer heard him. "But I can't."

Lucifer let his hand fall. "You'll say yes when you're ready, Sam. I can wait."

Sam didn't have a reply. Lucifer was right. He'd come to Lucifer when he was ready. Seeing how the man got under his skin, anticipating his every wish, offering him both what he needed and what he wanted, Sam knew it was a lost case. It was no longer a question of _if_. It was a question of _when_.

Making the mistake of looking at Lucifer, seeing the tenderness of his touch reflected in his eyes, Sam knew that _when_ couldn't be that far away and the mere idea made him flinch. He would be regarded little more than a cheap whore by everybody but Lucifer. He sighed, his breath shaky, and got up. The cold cell left Sam longing for Lucifer's warmth. He couldn't give in.

But God, he wanted to.

*

Despite the awkwardness that arose between them, both having sensed the desire they both felt, their one kiss had changed the atmosphere, no longer leaving Sam with the feeling that their relationship was merely superficial. Their conversations got deeper, more intimate, too. When they watched TV, sitting in Lucifer's bed, they no longer sat apart, but shared the pile of blankets and pillows, keeping the cold winter days at bay. Sam found it relaxing. The touching wasn't driven by intent, at least not from Sam's side. He touched Lucifer because he couldn't help it. Either their fingers brushed as they poured tea, or Lucifer, tired, falling asleep, was leaning against Sam's shoulder. It was merely small touches: Lucifer's hand on Sam's thigh for a second, Sam's hand on Lucifer's arm. The whiff of a breath as they passed each other in the narrow cell, Sam pausing for an instant, taking in Lucifer's scent. He loved Lucifer's scent.

Sam began to look forward to the quiet moments they had, costly pieces of time that made Sam forget that he was in prison and that his brother was little more than a vegetable, lying in hospital bed somewhere outside the walls. Delving into the required reading for his line of study, Sam couldn't remember having anything closer to a normal life than this—which in itself said a lot about how screwed up his life had been. He was strangely happy. Neither about being imprisoned, nor about Dean's state, but happy about everything else, mostly.

As Sam's life fell into place, leaving him room to pursue his interests without having to deal with the dangers of being ripped apart by angry ghosts or similarly angry rivaling prisoners, Sam's relaxed state made his stressed body awaken. He had never paid much attention to his urges. He had merely watched as Dean's parade of one night stands had passed by, only occasionally indulging in a sexual encounter himself. Now his body reminded him that he was young, he was alive, and most of all: he was cooped up in a cell with a man who was charming and attractive. Sam's conscious brain was busy trying denying that fact. The rest of Sam... not so much. He took to satisfying himself at night when Lucifer was asleep, trying not to think about him when he came, moans muffled by his pillow and the evidence of his waning resistance wiped off by a handful of paper towels. 

Feeling confident and at peace with his situation, Sam became interested in his fellow inmates. He made a friend. Inias was a nice young accountant who'd beaten up his superior when said superior had tried to frame him for fraud. Problem was that Inias was not only a good accountant, but also a competent boxer. Not the most clever decision, using violence, but Sam understood only too well how one might snap under duress; exactly what had gotten him his extended vacation in Hell. Inias had been lucky. His superior had survived the knock-out. Barely.

Meeting Inias made Sam wonder, not for the first time, how much power Lucifer had, exactly, and how far it reached into courtrooms and prisons. Inias had been moved here from another state. From what Sam had picked up, Inias was related to the Alighieri family in some way that Sam didn't understand, something that included several migrations between countries and Italy and the Vatican and possibly the illegitimate child of a pope during the Renaissance. A distant friend of Lucifer's brother, too, Inias turned out to be good company, quiet and intelligent, the kind of guy who didn't need to show off to prove anything to anyone. He had quite the sense of fairness, and an even keener sense of how to bend rules and Sam liked him. 

Zachariah hadn't bothered Sam again. Lucifer didn't speak about what measures he'd taken, but Sam was confident that Lucifer let him know what was going on at some point. He could ask, but he really didn't care about the man as long as Lucifer knew not to trust the asshole. Sam himself had stopped being nervous. He was always alert; that came with the job. He'd never stop being a hunter. Now that the cracked ribs had healed and were no longer bothering him, Crowley's Demons would never get another chance to catch him unawares. Lucifer always had a few of his Angels close to Sam, anyway, and with Inias at his side, Sam wasn't too worried. He could hold his own, he had back-up and everybody knew that they'd be answering to Lucifer if anything happened to him.

Visiting hours came and went. Lucifer and Inias both had family and friends coming to see them. Sam didn't expect anybody so he wasn't disappointed when no one came. The only person he wanted to see was confined to a bed and even though miracles happened, Sam had long since stopped hoping for them. He did benefit from Castiel's visits, however. Castiel Alighieri usually brought news about Dean, handed over to Sam by Lucifer: a written report from the doctors, a note from Castiel that Dean had moved a hand, that Dean was reacting to this or another treatment with a fancy name that Sam had to look up. Basically it was nothing that couldn't be said or done via phone or email, but Castiel seemed to understand how much it meant to Sam to actually have these small tangible pieces of proof that Dean was out there, alive.

Thus, it made Sam seriously afraid that something bad had happened when Victor knocked on the cell door one afternoon. "Visitor, Winchester."

"Visitor? Lucifer isn't here. He's... dunno."

"Castiel Alighieri. For _you_." Victor tilted his head in the direction of the visitor's room. "Coming?"

Slowly Sam got up. "For me? It's not Dean, is it? Is something wrong with him? He isn't... dead?" Sam felt his heart beat rapidly, fear creeping up on him.

"Don't know, Winchester. The younger Mr Alighieri didn't look particularly disturbed, though. Then again, he never does."

Victor led Sam to the visitor's room, hurrying through the corridors as if he understood Sam's worry. After a great deal of locking and unlocking and screening and scanning, Sam was finally let into a cosy room with low tables and comfortable chairs. "No glass?" He looked around. He'd expected plastic and bars and glass cages, but the visitor's room looked like somebody's nice and very large living room.

"Monitored." Victor pointed at a few cameras. There were guards standing at a desk in one corner. He pointed at a table. "Over there."

A very pretty man dressed in pair of faded jeans and a wrinkled shirt, tie loose, stood, waiting for Sam to approach. "Hello, Sam." Castiel Alighieri held out his hand. He had a firm grip that underlined that there was more to Lucifer's brother than a pretty face. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

"Don't believe anything that Lucifer told you. I'm really nice when you get to know me." Sam smiled, trying not to look impatient. "Is Dean all right?"

"Sit, please, Sam. And to put your worries to rest, Dean is fine. More than fine, actually." Castiel smiled.

Sam relaxed, able to appreciate the man in front of him. If Sam hadn't already met Lucifer, he might seriously have considered adding Castiel Alighieri to his nightly fantasies. Christ, the guy was pretty. "Thanks, you had me worried there for a while, Mr Alighieri." Wanting Castiel Alighieri to get on with it and explain why he was here, asking for him, Sam couldn't help fretting as he sat down in the comfortable leather chair.

"Castiel. Or Cas." Castiel put a small envelope on the table before he sat down once more. "This is for you."

"Cas, then." Sam sent Castiel a smile. "What is it?" Somebody had written Sam's name on the envelope. The paper was cream-colored. It was thick and heavy. Quality, expensive.

Returning the smile, Cas said, "Open it. I guarantee that you'll like it."

Raising one eyebrow in question, Sam opened the letter carefully, pulling out one sheet. He managed to read four words before the world turned. _Dear Sam. Love, Dean._ The two lines in between didn't matter. The entire world consisted of those four small words, clumsily written on a piece of hospital stationery.

Anticipating the questions that Sam wanted to ask, Castiel said, "Two weeks. We didn't want to tell you until we were sure that there wouldn't be any relapses. Until the tests were done."

Sam could feel hot tears slide down his cheeks. "He can write?" Sam reached out, taking Cas's hand. "Thank you... I don't know how to..."

Smiling, Cas nodded. "He can. The damage, it turns out, is not as serious as we thought. He'd probably been awake earlier, had the hospital not OD'ed his medication. Incompetents." Cas looked angry. He softened. "No thanks are necessary, Sam. It was a pleasure to be able to help."

"It was because of the meds?" Not that Sam was surprised. The so-called hospital barely resembled one. He rubbed his eyes, wiping the tears away. "He doesn't have any brain damage?"

"Partly. There is some damage, but he'll be fine. Not as good as new, but we'll get there. He'll need extensive care for a while, relearn to use his legs. His cognitive functions need work, too. Not his mouth, though. He's rather colorful when it comes to speaking. Doesn't seem as if he've forgotten any vocabulary. Unfortunately." This time Castiel laughed, a dark, rough laughter. "He's quite surprising, your brother. He thinks you should go for it, by the way."

"Er, what?" Sam blinked.

"My brother."

"Hold it!" Sam laughed, happiness bubbling inside him. "I am _so_ not discussing this with Lucifer's brother. Not even with Dean. And I am not... you know."

"Far too well. _He_ isn't happy about it." Cas smiled, apologetic, making a face. "If I beg you? I really can't take it much longer. Sam this, Sam that... If only Sam would..."

Sam frowned. "Don't you start. Why is it that everybody thinks I want to be with him? For all I know the guy is a raving lunatic or a psychopath. Or both. He did tell you why he sent you to take care of Dean? To buy me!"

"Because he wanted something to make you agree to share his cell with him, yes," Cas said. He didn't look appalled, exactly. "He told me you were a stubborn mule. Like your brother." The mention of Dean made Cas look slightly dreamy.

"Are you crazy? You think that it's... you're fine with that, Lucifer trying to bribe me with my brother's health?"

"Can't complain," Cas said, shrugging slightly. His eyes were very blue, as if there was a smile hidden in them somewhere. It bloomed on his lips half a second later. He looked a little giddy. "I don't regret meeting Dean. You're nice too, Sam." The stupid grin didn't disappear.

"For the love of everything that's holy, what is it with you people?" Sam threw his hands up. "Dean's been awake for two weeks and he has you like that?" Leave it to Dean to charm yet another member of the family. No matter what, Sam seemed to be stuck with Lucifer one way or another.

"It has created a certain bond between us, yes," Cas admitted. "Dean entertains the notion that I'm the one who dragged him out of the coma. Just because I sat with him for a few weeks before he woke up." Castiel folded his hands in front of him, leaning forward as if he wanted to tell Sam something in confidence. "And my brother is not a psychopath. What is wrong with him is that he loves too intensely; one has to be very strong and brave to stand up to that love. It's what got him in trouble in the first place. I mean... I wouldn't have had it in me to forgive him for killing Michael, if it hadn't been for that; it was his love for Meg that got the better of him, not that it is an excuse for killing, but it's an explanation. If you..." Castiel looked away for a moment, almost shy. "Sam, I think that you are exactly what Lucifer needs. I don't know you yet, but your brother speaks highly of you." Castiel paused, as if he considered whether to continue or not.

Sam nodded. "Out with it."

"I am not here on my brother's behalf, you need to understand that. All I know is that Lucifer has changed. Because of you. And if you say yes to Lucifer, if you find it in your heart to let him in... you will never lack for anything. But you need to be aware... never be weak. You are strong, like he is... you can handle this particular brand of love..." Castiel looked up. "Your brother is strong, too. Very. I believe in him," Castiel said softly, as if he'd seen something in Dean that few others had. "I don't see why you should be different, not from what Dean tells me about you. I do think you are able to handle my big brother. You complete him. He says that you complete him."

It took Sam a few seconds to realize that Castiel had just told him—convoluted, though—that Lucifer loved him. That couldn't be right, could it? Sam rejected the thought. Lucifer liked him, he was certain. He wanted his ass, but then again, Sam had a nice ass if he had to say so himself. But love? Not likely. Not a topic Sam wanted to address. Instead he pointed at Cas, unable to get angry at the man who'd delivered the best news Sam had had for ages. "You had all this planned, you sonuvabitch, trying to make me agree to become your brother's... " Sam didn't want to say the word. It made it too real. "You really talked about this with Dean?" He knew he looked skeptical. Dean wasn't usually discussing Sam's love life or lack of it.

"We talk about many things, Sam, Dean and I." Castiel's pale skin wasn't as pale any longer. He blushed. "And neither of us can decide your future for you, only point out that my brother isn't a bad man. Difficult, but not bad." Castiel reached out and patted Sam's hand. "I think you have that figured out by now."

Before Sam could embarrass himself further, visiting hours were over. He managed to thank Castiel again for bringing the good news before he and his fellow prisoners were ushered back to their cells. He walked with the group of inmates, lost in thought. Could Castiel be right? Sam had to admit that he might be since Lucifer had discussed their relationship with him. Lucifer was passionate and strong, and so were his feelings, that much Sam knew by now. But love... That was too weird. How was it possible at all, under these circumstances? Just because Lucifer, like Sam, enjoyed the company, enjoyed hanging out together, talking, touching? The kiss they had shared?

Oh. The fluttering sensation in his stomach? The way he enjoyed Lucifer's touches? The safety he felt when he incidentally breathed in Lucifer's scent? The one kiss, the one that had Sam longing for more? The refusal that had turned into reluctance, reluctance that had stretched into something thin and invisible?

Inias came up to Sam, pulling him out of his thoughts, a hand on his arm. Inias always had visitors. He was a likable man. "Alastair and Crowley behind us to the left. Nothing to worry about."

"Thanks." Sam was grateful, he had noticed little, seeing that little else mattered when Dean's health had improved so drastically, not to speak of the fact that Castiel practically had asked Sam to throw himself at Lucifer. That was somewhat disturbing as well. Usually Sam would have noticed everybody in the room; a hunter's habit still not broken. "Trouble?"

"Not here. Too many guards." Inias sent Sam a friendly smile. "I'll walk with you."

Sam wasn't worried. He could take both Alastair and Crowley and probably one or two more if he had to. Crowley never got his hands dirty and despite Alastair being a vicious and violent bastard, Inias was right: neither of the Demons would try anything, at least not anything that included violence. Not right under the the guards' noses. It was still good to have Inias at his side. Inias could be trusted, Sam was certain. A friend of Castiel's? Yeah, Inias was trustworthy all right. The only thing Sam had to keep in mind, dealing with the Demons, no matter who, was to protect Lucifer's standing. Sam knew very well that he was the target the rivals would go for, hitting where they thought they saw a soft spot. Any weakness exposed would reflect on Lucifer, making him look weak too.

Inias' theory was proved wrong, however. The Demons were cockier than he'd thought and it was surprising when Crowley caught up with them. He kept walking, looking past Sam, talking to Inias. "Your murderous master has let out his little rent boy, I see. Or has he borrowed him to you as reward? Didn't think a nice young man such as yourself would appreciate sloppy seconds. Or whatever number it is. Second, fourth, tenth... who knows with a dirty hole like him."

"I should have broken him in," Alastair added. He spoke softly, but his tone was dripping with malice. "I am looking forward to getting my hands on him for you, Crowley. When I'm done with him, he'll beg for you to take him." Alastair hesitated, stopping to look up and down Sam as if he was a particularly interesting insect. "I am going to teach you manners, you filthy little cunt!" Alastair sneered, baring his teeth. "And next time you're not just getting the handle."

Sam stopped dead in his track. He'd heard that before, hissed at him by another man, that exact sentence. Actually, he'd heard it all before. His eyes narrowed. He wasn't angry, nothing Alastair or Crowley could come up with could make Sam snap. But this... He had to consider the implications before he acted.

Inias, on the other hand, had heard enough. "Only pathetic losers with no intent on following through go on like that," Inias said to Sam, exactly loud enough for Alastair to hear. "Torture is a waste of time. A tool for amateurs. And isn't Alastair just adorably stupid when he brags like that?"

Alastair made a choking sound and struck out, only to hit empty air. Sam stepped forward, in front of Inias. "Oh, that was scary," Sam said, sarcasm thick. "I'm so impressed."

"No, Sam," Inias argued calmly. "Let me. Step back."

Sam could fight his own battles, but if he let Inias show that he could handle it, it would mean increased power to a high ranking member of Lucifer's gang. That Inias was also family further convinced Sam that he had to let Inias step in for him. Sam had proved that he was willing to fight and that was enough. "All yours."

Inias merely looked at Alastair and Crowley, no anger, no hate, just a neutral face. "Mr Crowley, I am a one-time man: I ask kindly once. If ignored, I hit once. I've had no complaints about the latter. Nobody has been able to complain. Please, step aside."

Sam knew how horribly sad Inias was that he'd almost killed a man in anger, but right that instant the threat worked very well. Crowley didn't know anything about Inias, except for two things: Inias was related to Lucifer and he willing to use his fists when arguments ran out.

Crowley paled. "Later, Winchester. Alighieri."

"Much later," Sam retorted. "You and your lapdog will never get to Lucifer through us." Sam deliberately turned his back to the two Demons. "Inias."

They walked, demonstratively slow, towards their corridor, waiting for the guards to let them in. "Shit, that was close," Inias said, leaning against Sam as they passed through the manned glass cage that was the entrance to their floor. "Fuck, I _hate_ that Alastair guy. He is damned creepy."

"Try him when he tries to shove a piece of wood up your ass, will you. Then it's creepy." Sam preferred not to think of the day when he had been attacked; the only reason he didn't have nightmares was because Alastair had got what he deserved. From Lucifer. Suddenly Sam wanted Lucifer like mad. Not because he couldn't defend himself, no, it was the comfort, the knowledge that no matter what, Lucifer would be there for him. It felt like a physical need, a hunger that needed to be stilled. It felt as if he'd die if he didn't get to touch Lucifer, to calm himself being in Lucifer's presence, calm himself by the tenderness that was always there, hidden underneath layers of strength and power.

Walking with Sam to his cell, Inias held up a hand. "I think I'll pass, strangely enough. Not much for being violated. You okay? You're far away."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, sorry. I was thinking about... Thanks, Inias." He squeezed Inias's shoulder. "Later? I'm sure Lucifer would like your version."

"I'll be here. For, like, the next ten years," Inias said, and walked away.

Sam closed the cell door behind him, leaning heavily against the cold steel, eyes closed. He'd been unafraid during the confrontation. Now... not so much. It was as if the memory from the day he'd been attacked and beaten was a wound ripped open. There was no blood, what with his wounds being only a memory, but it still left Sam feeling vulnerable. The metal was ice against his back, sweat cooling rapidly at the touch. God, he needed Lucifer. Lucifer was tenderness, safety, care, respect. Everything Crowley wasn't.

"Hello, handsome." Lucifer closed the lid of his laptop. He only had to look once to see something was wrong. "Sammy?" In a second Lucifer was at Sam's side, one hand on his shoulder, another cupping his cheek. "What happened, Sam? Are you all right? Look at me!" His voice was worried, a tone that Sam hadn't heard before. Lucifer caressed Sam's face gently. "Sam, please?"

Since he'd come here Sam had made several choices that had altered the course of his life. Even in the middle of coming down from the encounter with Crowley, Sam knew he'd reached yet another crossroads. He fought to get his body under control, fighting pent-up rage and fear, knowing that he needed to allow himself to let loose another feeling, a nameless one, one he'd repressed for far too long. He clutched at Lucifer's shirt, in his head trying not to let it be a replay of the rescue of that horrible day when Lucifer had stepped in on his behalf.

Closing his hand around a handful of orange fabric, Sam took a deep breath and pulled Lucifer closer. "I need you." He looked up, suddenly confident; he had nothing to fear, nothing to be ashamed of.

A glimmer of hope shone in Lucifer's eyes and he let himself be dragged flush against Sam's body. "Sammy?" The quiet whisper was shaky; question and plea all in one. He snaked an arm around Sam's waist, his palm warm and steady against Sam's back. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so fucked," Sam said, knowing that was precisely it. The incident with Crowley had merely been a catalyst for what Sam felt that instant, not a pleasant one, though. Now he understood. "I'm screwed." He let out a small sigh. It had been a long time coming, but here, now, he knew. "Could we skip the explanations," Sam said, "because... I just want you to kiss me. I want you, Lucifer."

"Took you long enough," Lucifer said. Then his mouth was on Sam's and nothing really mattered except for the kiss, firm lips moving over Sam's half-open mouth. Strong fingers slid through Sam's hair, making him moan weakly at the delightful sensation. With Lucifer's hand buried in his hair, Sam tilted his head back a little, giving Lucifer access to take what he wanted, leaving no doubt that he was willing to give it all. Sucking Lucifer's tongue, Sam tasted the sweetness of total surrender. His skin ached for touch, his cock was throbbing, very much alive as it was trapped between their bodies, Lucifer moving slowly, one hipbone rubbing firmly against Sam's hardening dick, one leg between Sam's thighs. Sam explored the little bumps of Lucifer's spine, the curve of his ass, the texture of his mouth and lips, the softness of the skin of his neck, everywhere he could reach with hands and lips.

Sam hadn't been lying when he said he was screwed. He could do nothing but to surrender to the flood of feelings that welled up inside him. He let go, let Lucifer lead them where he wanted them, the sensations so overwhelming that Sam had trouble standing against the sheer force of them. Nothing but being with Lucifer mattered. He knew with a deep certainty that he was falling in love, falling hard. Everything that was never supposed to happen happened anyway, and Sam didn't care. He'd fallen into temptation, and he intended to stay there.

Lucifer soon destroyed that line of thought, leaving Sam incapable to think at all. With Lucifer nibbling at his neck, leaving a line of little bites on his way to lick at Sam's collarbone, Sam moaned, squirming in Lucifer's embrace. God, it was so good, the slight pain, Lucifer's confident lead. "Ah, more," Sam groaned, thrusting his hard cock against Lucifer's. Sam's underwear was come-smeared already, a wet spot where pre-come had seeped through the fabric. He turned his head to the side, stretching under Lucifer's kisses, wanting Lucifer do with him as he liked. "More... Lucifer, please?"

Pants were pulled down, a hot, spit-slick hand grabbed them both and Sam couldn't stay quiet as Lucifer rubbed their cocks together. "Anything you want," Lucifer growled, once more attacking Sam's mouth eagerly. Fucking into Sam's mouth, timing his strokes with the thrusts of his tongue, he had Sam close to coming in seconds.

"I want _you_ ," Sam moaned into Lucifer's mouth, kissing back hungrily, his arm around Lucifer's neck. His legs were weak and his body was shivering with pleasure. "Harder," Sam demanded, wanting the power that Lucifer held to manifest in a physical way as well. "That's it. This is my yes to you. _Yes_! Just fucking _take_ it!"

Slamming Sam hard up against the door, Lucifer jerked them off harshly, no finesse or care, just pure, raw lust. He left Sam's mouth alone for a while, pulling at his shirt, sucking and biting at his exposed chest until Sam cried out loudly from the exquisite sensations of pain and pleasure. Sam let out a deep moan, unable to hold back. "Lucifer! God, let me... oh, oh... let me-"

"Louder!" Lucifer pinched Sam's nipple none too gently. It was sweet torture, and Sam knew he couldn't last.

Sam cried out again, letting Lucifer know how good it felt. "Yes, God, yes!"

"I need you, Sam. Want them to hear what I do to you. You're mine," Lucifer growled possessively, kissing his way back to Sam's neck. With a twist of his hand he rubbed his thumb over the damp head of Sam's cock, pressing a nail against the slit.

That was it. "Lu- Lucifer, fuck!" Sam groaned, the orgasm blazing through his body. Warm semen splashed over their cocks, over Lucifer's hand and stomach, making him pant loudly, the harsh, cruel strokes even faster on Sam's sensitized cock. Sam whined, once more squirming under Lucifer's hand, enjoying the rough touches, wanting Lucifer's come on his body. Lucifer stilled, totally quiet for a moment. Then he came with a loud, unintelligible moan that echoed in their cell, his come pulsing hotly over Sam's dick, trickling down his thighs.

Dizzy from the violent release, Sam could hardly stand. Sweaty and dirty and satisfied, he hung on to Lucifer, not wanting to let go. "Oh, Sam," Lucifer murmured close to his ear, nuzzling it gently. "That was..." Lucifer wiped his hand in his drenched shirt and put one arm around Sam's waist, holding him up.

With heavy-lidded, tired eyes, Sam pressed a kiss to Lucifer's mouth, a bit sloppy, but no less loving. "Mmm, that." Clumsily, Sam fumbled for his pants, not really able to decide what to do with them. Mostly he wanted to stay in Lucifer's arms and do nothing but to enjoy the giddy feeling of having been thoroughly satisfied by an experienced lover. "How did you know precisely what I needed?" Sam murmured, leaning heavily against Lucifer's shoulder.

Lucifer was caressing Sam tenderly, a notable contrast to the way he had been taken. "I promised you to give you anything, didn't I?" Lucifer managed, still slightly breathless. "Anything you want."

Sam decided that the rough, demanding way Lucifer had touched him definitely belonged in that category. It could easily be labeled _Things Sam Winchester Would Like Again Very Soon_.

"Would that include lying down?" Sam asked, sure Lucifer would have to carry him if they stayed in a vertical position for much longer. "I think you broke my legs."

Helping Sam getting rid of his dirty clothes, Lucifer guided Sam to his bed. Sam sank down on the mattress, relieved that he was allowed to lie down, stretching languidly as Lucifer fetched a warm washcloth, carefully wiping sweat and come off Sam's body before he was allowed to cover himself with the warm comforter. Somehow it was touching how Lucifer made sure he was clean and warm, putting Sam's comfort before his own. Lucifer returned, slipping under the covers, pulling Sam into his arms.

With his head resting on on Lucifer's chest, Sam felt happy, content and a bit sore. He liked it, how Lucifer's touch was still a dull throbbing, his nipples and cock tender after rough hands had worked their magic on him. He wondered briefly how it would feel when Lucifer fucked him, if he'd be taken in the same fashion, like _no_ wasn't an acceptable answer. Only it was, Lucifer's actions the last months had proved that over and over. Needing to put the feeling into words, Sam turned his head into Lucifer's shoulder, whispering warmly against his skin. "You're everything you promised you'd be," Sam said, knowing that he was sealing his destiny. "You'd never hurt me."

Raising up on one elbow, Lucifer looked down at Sam. "Why now?" He reached out, trailing a finger down Sam's jaw, making his skin tingle for more touches. "You have no idea how much I want you."

Wincing as he turned to line his body up against Lucifer's, hurting so deliciously, Sam laughed. That was precisely what made Lucifer so irresistible. He always gave Sam what he hadn't even known he wanted and hard, demanding sex with an older man was clearly one of those things. "Oh, I think I have an idea. My neck... and my nipples... oh, God. You need to do that again."

"Happy to oblige. And certainly happy that you want to have another go. Now, who do I have to thank for this sudden change of mind?"

Leaning in to kiss Lucifer, Sam tried to be coherent long enough to answer the question. To be honest, Crowley had little to do with Sam's U-turn; it had just been the agent that had made Sam react; if anyone was to blame—or thank—for it, it had to be Castiel. "I think you have to blame your brother for it. He was here today, visiting me, pointing out one or two things you'd told him about me. Castiel enjoyed it far too much that he knew about me and he tried to convince me that there was no reason to be... reluctant. It made me think." Sam couldn't stop himself and smirked up at Lucifer. "About life and love and... you know, having a love life."

"We have a love life?" Cocking an eyebrow as if to urge Sam to reply instantly, Lucifer's eyes twinkled. He looked happy. "I'm going to send Cas flowers if he's the cause of your sudden surrender."

"Yeah. We do. Have a love life. As of now." Sam knew with a deep certainty that it had been right to act on his impulse, to let his body take over where his brain constantly tried to hold back. The confrontation with Crowley had been the catalyst for Sam's actions, but it had been Castiel who had delivered the small push he'd needed. Sam had been dancing on the edge so dangerously for weeks, wanting Lucifer so much, but refusing to examine his feelings properly and Cas had seen it somehow. "Your brother... he's very different from you." Sam pursed his mouth for a moment, scrutinizing his lover. "He came to tell me in person that Dean was awake. You knew?"

"Yeah, I did. Didn't want to get any hopes up before Cas knew that Dean would be all right. And Cas? He's the black sheep of the family. He's the good guy. White hat if there ever was one. The rest of us... we're bad." Lucifer grinned and kissed Sam on the mouth, obviously not bothered by his own lack of good-guy-qualities.

"What I wanted to say was that you are also very alike." Sam pressed a hand against Lucifer's chest, stopping him from taking more kisses. "Castiel, despite his awkward manners—he suffers from that protective trait, too, it was so easy to see, the way he wants to take care of Dean." Sam paused, biting his lip. "When he told me that the two of you had discussed this," Sam moved his hand from Lucifer's chest to his own and back, " _us_ , he also told me something else." Sam looked Lucifer in the eye. "He told me that you're in love with me."

Lucifer rubbed his lips with a hand as if he was covering up a smile. His eyes glittered. He didn't deny it. "Our biggest secret and our downfall. We love too much."

"I think," Sam said, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, "that you love precisely enough."

"And by that you mean _adequately_?"

"You know I don't." Sam swallowed nervously. "There is nothing adequate about you. You're ice and fire, nothing in between. Passion. The way you love... you're-"

"Yeah," Lucifer breathed. "I am. With you." Lucifer pulled Sam even closer, a hand around the back of his neck. "In love with you."

"You are? It's true?" Sam closed his eyes; the expression in Lucifer's eyes too intense. "Thank God." Sam leaned into Lucifer's embrace. "Couldn't bear it if it was just me. I mean, with you. I'm in love with you too."

"I know what you mean, Sammy," Lucifer said and kissed Sam again.

*

Pushing aside any unpleasant thoughts about his encounter with Crowley and Alastair, Sam engaged for some time in the very enjoyable task of exploring the development which Castiel Alighieri so eagerly had set in motion, not that Sam had a mind to think about Cas or anybody else, for that matter. Giving himself up to Lucifer was a bit like being thrown into a blazing furnace, except it hurt less and felt better.

"Thank God for Sundays," Sam managed, much later, utterly spent. "I really couldn't move unless the place was on fire."

Almost purring with satisfaction, Lucifer chuckled. "Indeed. I'm not sure how much business would suffer, were I to talk with any of my business partners in this state. I'd probably just hand them the entire Alighieri cooperation, informing them that I'd want to free up some time so that I can have more sex with my gorgeous boyfriend."

"I'm your boyfriend?" Sam wrapped his arms around Lucifer's neck, nibbling along his jaw. "I like the sound of that."

"Were you ever in doubt how much I wanted you?"

With all that Lucifer had done to win him over? Not really. "No," Sam answered. "It's just nice to hear you say it."

Sam couldn't remember having a better day in his entire life. Crowley and Alastair could go fuck themselves, for Sam had his brother back and he was in love. God, he was invincible! Not bothering to get out of bed, they survived on what Lucifer had stored in the tiny fridge. Coke and fruit weren't precisely Sam's favorite diet, though. Didn't matter. Since Sam had given in to temptation, he could just as well enjoy it fully. It was as if they had so much to make up for, finally being able to touch each other freely. It meant a lot to Sam that Lucifer wanted all of him, all the time, not just for a quick fuck.

It was late night when Sam decided to let the grim reality of prison life pop his perfect bubble of love. Feeling safe and cared for in Lucifer's embrace, Sam needed to discuss with his lover the recent confrontation with Crowley and Alastair. Lucifer fingers traced light patterns on Sam's back, making him relaxed enough to explain, strong enough to deal with whatever vicious scheme the two Demons had come up with to get to Lucifer.

"It made me suspicious," Sam explained. "Not that they think me a whore; I think I've gotten over that, people will believe that I sold myself to you no matter what, so I don't really care any longer. It's what they said, the way they said it, Lucifer."

"Not that I doubt that Crowley has an extensive vocabulary, but I assume you didn't mean to compliment him on it?"

"I know you've been watching Zachariah since he... suggested that I could be his..." Disgusted by the thought, Sam made a gagging noise.

"His fuck toy. It'll be over my dead body, or rather over Zachariah's; I much prefer his death to mine, now that I think of it. You're mine, Sammy," Lucifer said, his expression suddenly very loving. "No one is going to have you but me, ever."

It made Sam melt that Lucifer wanted him so badly. "Don't distract me, I'm trying to be serious here," Sam growled, trying to keep himself from kissing Lucifer. "You can propose at a later time, you know, an appropriate one."

"I'll keep that in mind," Lucifer gasped, breathless. "You're a good kisser." He kissed Sam's neck, sliding a hand down his side, resting his hand on Sam's hip. "Zach?"

"It isn't that I forgot what he said to me that day. It sorta stuck, what with the offense and the creepiness. And that turned out to be a good thing," Sam explained. He felt cold, the mere idea of being used like that making him shiver. He pulled the comforter up, soaking in Lucifer's warmth. "The way he worded it. Those exact words, Lucifer. It was precisely what I heard come out of Alastair's mouth this afternoon when he threatened me. Not almost. Not the meaning. The full frigging sentence. Word for word. As if he'd heard it from somebody."

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, and Sam suddenly understood how terrifying an enemy Lucifer could be. Cold hatred shone in his eyes. Not thoughtless, burning hate, but the cold, icy, calculated brand, the kind that ruthlessly ruined whatever it was aimed at. To stop it would be like a polar bear threatening a glacier, hoping it wouldn't move. "I haven't trusted Zach for a minute since you convinced me of his sick attraction to you, Sam. I kept him close to find out what drove him, you know that. Rest assured I'll get to the core of this."

Sam wasn't in doubt. "You've been grooming Inias to take over as enforcer, haven't you? In case..."

"Yes. You like him. He's my cousin. He'd never betray his family. I'd have taken you, you'd be good, but you're their target; they think they can get to me through you. I need a strong shield between you and the Demons."

"He stood by me today, Inias, all the way." Sam trusted Inias, not only because he was Lucifer's family, but because they were friends.

"As I knew he would. I know you're strong enough to hold your own; with Inias... two watching your back is better than one. We don't want a bathroom scene encore. They could catch you unawares, no matter how careful you are."

"You have your Angels guarding me at all times anyway. How could-"

"Little fish, Sam. You're not _their_ lover or friend. They are afraid of me, of course, but the bond you and Inias share... it's matters. I just want you safe. I couldn't bear losing you now, or seeing you hurt. I'll kill Crowley before he touches you." Lucifer's cold eyes turned warm. "You're mine to protect."

Sam wasn't in doubt. He'd see to it that Lucifer would never have to take such drastic measures again, kill for love or protection. Not that Sam didn't understand, he did.

Because he would do it, too, kill for the man he loved.

 

**3\. Disasters, Delights and... Dean**

The next couple of weeks passed by without further incidents. It did help, of course, that Crowley and Alastair had cells in another wing; the only times Sam saw them were during visiting hours, sometimes during meals, and occasionally when they were outside, exercising in the fenced yard between the prison blocks. Lucifer kept Zachariah dangling, the enforcer clearly dissatisfied with the situation. Inias had Sam's back and Lucifer had assigned more of his gang to guard Sam. Neither of the Demons were able to get into close distance of Sam without causing a fight, something Crowley and Alastair clearly weren't willing to risk. Zachariah was dealt with in the same manner, if less obvious. Sam looked forward to see the man go, whether it was by choice or by push, provided by Lucifer's gentle hand, but Lucifer needed to get as much out of Zachariah as possible before he confronted him. It felt like a standstill; once more they experienced the quiet before the storm, Sam was sure.

Sam's relationship with Lucifer, on the other hand, progressed. It was like they fit, two halves, perfectly suited to make a whole. Lucifer had decided to trust Sam enough to reveal more about himself, which again made Sam trust his lover even more; an upward spiral. Sam had been right when he believed that underneath the hard surface, under the polished, manipulating façade of a successful businessman was the softer core of a man who had a tendency to love too much, too passionately. Everything about Lucifer was intense. Hot or cold. _Lukewarm_ was not a term one could use in connection with Lucifer Alighieri. He lived in the binary and Sam loved it.

They were lying in bed, relaxing after an evening of perfect sex, Sam half asleep, Lucifer's hands soothing his sore body, when Lucifer decided to show Sam exactly how deep their new-found connection went. "I didn't tell it as it went," he murmured, almost too low for Sam to hear. "If I had, I might have been free by now."

Sam was suddenly very awake. He forced himself to relax, not wanting Lucifer to stop. He put a hand on Lucifer's, not turning or looking, merely letting Lucifer know that he was there, listening. "I didn't know how to... atone. Except, staying in here. I loved Michael, Sam. He was my big brother, always right. I looked up to him, adored him. Maybe that's why it took so long for me to discover how ill he was. I should have known. I should have stopped him."

The sadness in Lucifer's voice was almost unbearable. Sam entangled his fingers with Lucifer's, providing what little comfort he could without disturbing Lucifer in his confession.

"You've heard of Lilith?" Lucifer's voice was stronger, more like he was _there_ , present, ready to talk.

Sam took Lucifer's direct question as a sign that he could ask questions too. He didn't turn, leaving it to Lucifer to demand what he needed. "The celebrity lawyer?" Sam nodded, his head against Lucifer's chest. Yeah, he knew her. Everybody did. Lilith probably had a last name, but nobody used it. There was only one Lilith and very few could afford to hire her. She'd been legend already when Sam studied pre-law at Stanford.

"She's employed by me," Lucifer revealed. "She eats when I say so, shits when I demand it and generally she's doing exactly what I ask her to do. She was the one who got me ten to fifteen instead of life."

"You sound disappointed." Sam frowned; Lucifer's initial words about atonement came back. "You actually wanted a lifetime in prison?" Sam was too surprised not to turn around and look at his lover. He settled with an arm slung over Lucifer's waist.

"I was falling apart," Lucifer avoided the question. His eyes were heavy with sadness. "I was busy, running the company. Didn't see what was going on until it was too late. My brother... he was worse than I; brutal in business, mad with power. They said he suffered from paranoia. Meg made the mistake of questioning his decisions. He thought she wanted to attempt a take-over of some kind. Didn't make sense. So Michael killed my sister and I-" Lucifer fell silent for some time as if the memory was too painful for him. "Michael attacked me too. With the same knife. I snapped. Only that is no excuse. It was self-defense, yes, but it was murder, too. I knew exactly what I did." Lucifer sighed as if it tired him to speak of the events. "Lilith got me _manslaughter_ instead of first degree. I never told her that Michael attacked me. Never told anyone. I got off cheap. I wanted to kill Michael for what he did to Meg."

"Ten, fifteen years isn't exactly _cheap_ ," Sam contradicted, looking down. "I'd have done the same for Dean," Sam admitted unapologetically, finally looking up at Lucifer, knowing that Sam wasn't the only man he'd kill for. "Not going to judge you."

"I love my family. Too much, some might say. Would kill again if I had to. Maybe half an hour earlier, though. Meg would have been alive, then."

"And you'd have been in a cage in Hell for the rest of your life."

"I still want to atone for what I did... and for what I didn't. Maybe for not regretting that I killed Michael. Perhaps that's where I should be, in a cage. For not insisting when he..." Lucifer sighed deeply. "I offered him the company. My shares. I offered him to split up everything, letting him have most of what I have, if only the three of us split up amicably. He kept saying that he had to deal with Meg first, only then he'd negotiate with me. I don't know where I can find redemption for killing a sick man, Sam."

"He wanted that fight to happen." Sam had little doubt that Lucifer drove a hard bargain, but he'd been willing to give up his fortune for his brother. "And you really didn't tell Lilith this? That you'd tried everything, and Michael went on and killed Meg despite your offer?"

"No. I didn't."

"You sabotaged your trial on purpose. Don't you think you could have redeemed yourself, dunno, better, if you were outside? You own, what, half of America, and you have confined yourself to... _this_ when you could do stuff with money outside? You are a ruthless ass, yes, but that's not all you are. You have so much love in you, couldn't you-"

"It is something I needed, Sam. And I can, as you so eloquently put it, do stuff with money in here as well."

"And why is that?" Sam asked another question that he'd wanted to ask for very long. "It's usually not allowed, running a business from inside the walls. It's not as if you own the prison."

"Erm," Lucifer said, looking somewhat ashamed. "Actually, I do."

"What?" Sam sat up, the comforter pooling around his waist. "Sonuvabitch!"

"Well, it is a construction, we own the shares in a company that contracts the company which owns the subsidiary of-"

"Got it. It's still all yours, despite the glossy varnish and the detours?"

"Yes. All of it."

"See," Sam said, laughing softly. "This is why I love you so much, you're an impossible mix of good and evil, of moral and absolute, utter lack of it."

"But you still love me?"

"Yes." Sam pulled Lucifer close. "All of you. Despite your idiocy. When do you think you have paid for what you did? You seriously need to consider whether you'd do better working on your redemption from outside the walls."

"I don't know, Sam. Maybe never. But I promise I'll think about it. There will be a time when you're out there and I'm still in here. Might make me reconsider. Totally selfish of me, and nothing to do with redemption."

"Promise you'll put Lilith back on the case. I might be selfish, too, but I'd like to have you with me when I'm done here. I want to be with you, Lucifer. Have a life with you, outside." Sam stroked Lucifer's cheek, tracing his mouth with a finger. "If... if you want that." They had never talked about that. Fifteen years, ten, five. It was a very long time. "Perhaps you should allow yourself to love your fellow man, you know, just in general. Do good with what you have."

"Oh, I'd like to be with you. I told you, you're mine, forever," Lucifer declared, his voice rough. Sam let himself be kissed, one arm around Lucifer's neck, pressing hard against him, leaving no doubt that he'd like forever with Lucifer very much.

Withdrawing, Lucifer looked very serious. "If I sic Lilith on the District Attorney, she'll stop only when she's bled dry or I'm out on parole, whichever comes first. I'm not sure I'm ready for that, not yet." Lucifer hesitated for a moment, before he asked, "Will you wait for me, Sam? No matter what I decide?"

"Idiot," Sam said lovingly. "How can you even ask that?"

It wasn't a matter of choice. There would be no other man for Sam. It was forever. He'd said yes to Lucifer and he would not break that promise.

*

Together with the openness that grew between them, Lucifer let Sam in on his dealings with the prison gangs. Inias became a frequent visitor, joining them in their cell to make plans or just to hang out with Sam when he had some spare time in between studying and trying to understand the complicated net of businesses that the Alighieri family owned. One cause for worry was that the confrontations between Sam and Crowley would grow into a full-fledged war.

"I have done as much as I possibly can without resorting to a paid wet job," Lucifer argued. "I have my limits too; I am not always above the law, not in here."

Inias, sitting with a cup of coffee, was fiddling with the mug, looking decidedly as someone who had a something to say.

"Inias?" Sam poked his friend on the arm with his index finger. "Out with it."

"We can't afford a war. Wars lead to discontent prisoners... well, even more discontent. That leads to riots and a riot might shut down some of the benefits Lucifer has gotten us. Worst case scenario: they decide to move one of us, and that won't do. We have to stop this conflict between the gangs before it goes too far." Inias took a sip of the hot coffee, coughed and put down the mug on Sam's desk. "You need to speak with Crowley, Lucifer. It's either that, or you bribe your way to getting him removed from this place."

"And that won't do, either, for then we have like a hundred leaderless Demons, and that's not going to be fun, especially if Alastair takes over. Then we're definitely back to a war and the risk of it going too far." Looking very tired, Sam forced himself to come up with solutions that worked. He'd much prefer one that sent Crowley and Alastair through the meat grinder in the kitchen, but that wouldn't happen. "Inias is right, Lucifer. You need to speak with Crowley. Conquer and divide. Or rather the other way around, I don't bloody care, as long as I don't get butt-raped with a housekeeping device." Sam turned restlessly in his office chair, feeling as if he needed to act upon the threat. He was still a hunter and by God, he wanted to hunt the two Demons.

Looking as if he was calculating risks, numbers and potential dangers, Lucifer nodded. "I'm not sure I agree. It'll be seen as a weakness if I set this in motion. However, there is one little snag that makes me think that I should do it anyway." He paused, politely leaving room for Sam to step in and ask.

Performing admirably, Sam said, "That being?" Sam thought he knew already. The snag was Zachariah. The spanner in the works. The question was just in whose works.

"I still haven't figured out what Zach is up to. Crowley doesn't meet with Zachariah, although my spies in their wing has seen Zach in Alastair's close proximity. Whether they've been speaking... Hard to say. Can't imagine what Zachariah would have to say to Crowley's toadie." Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Lucifer surely was more worried than he let Sam and Inias see. Sam knew the signs.

"It's disconcerting. I mean... using the exact same phrases as Alastair and Crowley about Sam... They have to have communicated at some point." Inias picked up his mug, sneered at the now lukewarm coffee and put it back on the desk. "Sam, did _both_ Alastair and Crowley use those phrases? The ones that Zachariah had-"

"It was just Alastair." Something hit Sam as clear as lightning. "Fuck! It's not Crowley. It's Alastair and Zachariah! Lucifer, they're conspiring to get you and Crowley to fight, so that they can take over! I'm your weakness _and_ Crowley's, and that's what they are exploiting. Now it makes sense!" Sam stood, pacing the small cell. Looking back, that was exactly it. Zachariah hadn't raised a hand against Alastair when the Demon had attacked Sam, thwarting Alastair had been Lucifer's doing. "Who fetched you to come to that bathroom? Who told you? About the attack. I mean, you weren't even in my wing when Crowley and Alastair caught me."

Sam already knew the answer.

"Zachariah." The one word sounded like winter and icebergs and all things icy. "And Alastair would not want to take you. I am sure Zach has made you a part of the deal. He wouldn't be able to pry you from Crowley if he'd gotten his hands on you first. I have seen now how Zach looks at you. He's hungry." Lucifer's anger moved from 'frozen 'towards 'absolute zero'. It didn't bode well for Zachariah's future. Zachariah would die in a frozen hell before Lucifer would let him close again. "He planned this, played us all," Lucifer said. "And I am going to make him regret it."

*

It took considerable time, money and persuasion to set up the meeting with Crowley. Phones were monitored; speaking to the man that way was out of the question. The secret meeting took place in a first floor bathroom adjacent to the warden's office. It wasn't exactly luxurious, but it was away from prying eyes. Victor and a guard from Crowley's wing had agreed to act as messengers; they both knew how fast a prison could go up in flames, given the right spark in the wrong place. It had taken time, too, because Lucifer had arranged for the warden to win a weekend for two in New York, making sure that the he wouldn't interfere.

"Crowley." Lucifer waited until Sam joined them, then closed the door behind him. Victor and his colleague were waiting in the corridor. Crowley's condition, since he was meeting with both Sam and Lucifer without his enforcer. "Thanks for coming."

"Let's get over the Hallmark moment, shall we?" Crowley drawled. "Ten minutes and I'm gone."

"We're both realistic men, I understand, so let's skip the small talk. Your enforcer and mine have been conspiring to take over by setting us up against each other."

"I like a man who goes right for the essence, but that's a tad too essential, Alighieri. Details?"

"Zachariah has his eyes on my man." Lucifer held up a hand. "And he _is_ mine. By choice, and not because I bought him. Just to get that discussion over with. He's mine, and I'll keep him for as long as he wants to be mine. You are not getting him, and I'll personally kill you if you try. Sam's my lover, not my toy."

Sam, leaning against the tiled wall, nodded. "That's right." He didn't feel any need to appease the man who'd set Alastair on him to punish him. "And that will change, like, never." Just to underline his words, he sent Lucifer a scorching look.

A curt nod was all the attention Crowley paid Sam. "All right. He's not the only handsome man in here. Now, Zachariah... why is it that you allow your enforcer to disrespect you and your... lover, hm?"

"To find out exactly what I found out recently. Which is why we're here. Let me ask you, Crowley: who gave you the idea to begin with, going after Sam the way you did, letting Alastair loose on him? You don't seem to me like a man with such unrefined taste. Or a man, for that matter, who'd let his man get molested by a sadistic torturer."

Crossing his arms in front of him, Crowley was quiet for a while. "Let's imagine that you're right. Let's imagine that I might have been... carried away. Let's imagine that I might have been more interested in pissing off territory than in that actual piece of ass." Crowley sent Sam a brief look. "Not that it isn't a nice piece, one that I'd be happy to sample if Sam was willing."

Sam coughed, but choose to ignore Crowley. It wasn't the right time to act offended.

"Then it's easy to see how they teased us, made us behave like dogs after," Lucifer sent Sam an apologetic look, "a bitch in heat. We both behaved like horny animals; we could easily have made bigger fools of ourselves that we've done already. How much longer before Alastair and Zachariah would have gained foothold enough to kick off our thrones, you think? Not that they'd have succeeded, but the attempt in itself... "

Crowley hissed, not satisfied by the thought. "And how do I know that this is not you, scheming to kick me off my seat? As I recall it, you had Zachariah threaten my family. I have no doubt that you'd-"

"You _don't_ know. And that threat was by courtesy of Zach. I'd never harm family to get back at anybody in a fight. I have assets that are so much more effective than that. I would rather that people agree to my suggestions because they can't not. I don't have access to an unlimited supply of sawed-off horse heads. You know why I'm in here, Crowley. I wanted to protect my sister rather than kill my brother. People usually get it the wrong way around."

"I do know why you're in here. You're still a murderer."

"A question of interpretation. Let's not split hairs."

"So what's the deal, then? What could you possibly offer me that would make me listen?"

Sam held his breath. They had to convince Crowley or things would get, now that they were speaking of hair, hairy. Lucifer's way of negotiating worked well with most people, but Crowley wasn't most people. Like Lucifer, Crowley drove, as rumor had it, a hard bargain and he wasn't intimidated by his opponent. Not enough to just roll over and do what he was told, at least.

"We divide Hell between us. We make an alliance: if anybody steps up to threaten our rule, we back each other. You get rid of Alastair, I have a new enforcer backing me already, Inias. We keep drugs and violence to a minimum, and I'll use what power I have to let the special conditions we have here spread to the other wings. A quiet prison is a happy prison. Fights... they tend to end up in evoked privileges and less freedom. I have access to resources I'm sure you wouldn't mind sharing in exchange for your cooperation. Friends in high places and all that. What you get is basically a ticket to the VIP room."

"And the catch?"

"You're being released in, what, three, four years? When you leave, the entire prison, both Angels and Demons, are going to answer to me, and you are going to help me prepare for it. And Alastair goes. I want him out. As in _transferred to another facility_."

Crowley laughed. "Just like that? I'm digging my grave with my own bloody shovel, is that it?"

"Have it your way. I could use my time ruining what's left of your business instead, but whatever suits you. Thought that your family liked living in relative wealth, though."

"So, no more courting. Glad to see the velvet gloves came off so fast. Easier to handle. I've heard you're a man of honor, despite your decidedly unpleasant disposition." Crowley didn't flinch, he simply looked at Lucifer calmly, not fazed at all. "A house in a nice area, Boston, I think. A million on my account the day I leave; a hundred grand now, and I'm in. Screw me over and you're a dead man. I have friends in low places." Crowley smiled, looking like the predator he clearly was. "Take it or leave it," he added, his expression making it clear that he wasn't discussing, but dictating his conditions. "Oh, and loverboy there stays safe from me."

Lucifer nodded, satisfied. "We need to frame our enforcers. Lure them out of the woodwork, make them slip, preferably in a way that sends them to another prison. It would strengthen our positions if we have it out in the open that we are running the place together. Quench the smaller factions, or make them cooperate with us."

"Alastair is armed. Knife. Just so you know." The information was enough to show that the Demon leader was in. Crowley looked at his watch. "Time's up. I need to get back. I'll come up with a proposal, this needs to be planned carefully or I'll be the one with a knife in my back. Alastair is a mad dog when provoked." Crowley brushed an invisible piece of lint off his shirt. "You can trust my liaison for communication." He pointed at the door leading to the corridor, indicating that the other guard was trustworthy.

"Done." Lucifer didn't as much as blink. Sam knew it meant that he'd won. He'd seen enough by now to recognize the expression. A million and a house wasn't making as much as a dent in the sturdy Alighieri foundation. Crowley probably didn't need that million. He'd just been asking for it to underline his position of power.

They were escorted back to their floor. Lucifer was quiet. Sam understood that they would talk about the deal they'd made with Crowley when Victor wasn't there to overhear. _Trust no one_ was a good rule to follow inside the walls.

"You think he's going to keep his promise?" Sam asked as they were safe inside their cell. "Crowley, is he reliable? I suppose you had your people do some research."

"Not exactly honorable. If you ever thought I was a scheming asshole, I certainly got competition. Maybe I should offer him a job in my company. He'd fit in fine. Good thing is that when Crowley's made a deal, he seems to sticks to it like a fly to a lump of sugar."

Sam sat down in his chair, looking up at his lover. "And what do we do now?"

Lucifer smiled and bent down to kiss Sam. It took a while before any of them let go. "Now you study hard; I'll try and come up with a plan that'll make Zachariah slip and do something incredibly stupid, preferably in public."

"Thanks, I needed to have my inadequacy confirmed. I'll read a book while my lover sets the world right." Sam pouted. Secretly he was rather pleased with Lucifer. It truly was nice not to stand against the world alone.

"Oh, believe me. With what I have in mind, your participation is definitely needed."

Sam didn't like the way Lucifer looked at him. A hungry tiger had been less intimidating. Sometimes Lucifer was truly frightening.

*

Sam couldn't figure out why Lucifer was jittery. Or maybe jittery wasn't the right expression because there was no way that Lucifer would be nervous about the upcoming confrontation. Sam knew that his lover didn't shy away from violence as a means to get what he wanted, and to be honest, Sam didn't have a problem with it, either. So, the problem was that Lucifer was behaving strangely for no apparent reason. Sam could ask, of course; Lucifer wouldn't keep anything from him, but Sam preferred that Lucifer told him when he was ready to do so.

It wasn't Crowley that got to Lucifer, that much Sam knew. Crowley had turned out to be remarkably reliable, definitely a man of his word. Quite a few messages had been exchanged between Lucifer and Crowley since their meeting, and although their cooperation didn't make Lucifer like the Demon leader, it certainly had made him respect the man. When Crowley was in, he was in a hundred percent. It looked as if the reversed conquer and divide that Lucifer had set in motion had an effect. One strong alliance, crushing the opposition and the smaller factions and Hell belonged to Lucifer. Crowley had ensured Lucifer that there would be no riot when they took Zachariah and Alastair down; Crowley was a cruel master and had his Demons on a short leash.

One week and the next went by before Lucifer finally decided to let Sam in on their plans. Sitting on the bed after their evening meal, the TV blaring CNN to avoid being overheard, Lucifer told Sam, "Sunday."

"Zachariah?"

"And Alastair. We need to get to both of them. To kick them into action. We do that on Sunday, right before yard time and visiting hours. Gives them opportunity to work each other up."

Sam smirked. He knew Lucifer would come up with something good. "And how are you going to make them snap? Because you will, right?"

"Crowley will see Sunday as the perfect day for telling Alastair that he's been dumped, that he's has found another enforcer." Lucifer's smile was decidedly evil. "That should take care of Alastair." Lucifer pulled Sam close, a hand around the back of Sam's neck. "And I have three important things to do on Saturday. Four, to be precise."

Usually Sam would be worried when Lucifer looked like that, but right now he _loved_ it. Getting back on Zachariah was better than Christmas. Then again, almost everything was better than Christmas, so maybe not the comparison Sam should make. "Yes?"

"First, I'm going to have the pleasure of telling Zachariah to shove it. And secondly I'm going to rub his face in the fact that Inias is my new enforcer and that he's been in on things I wouldn't dream of telling Zach. You know... making sure he knows how inadequate he is compared to my family. Which includes you, of course. Thirdly, I am going to put on a show, one I need your cooperation for." Lucifer slid a hand up Sam's thigh, very slowly. "It might include a bit of exhibitionism on our part, but it's for a good cause. And I promise it'll be good."

"Oh, no!" Sam could see where this was going. "I am not letting-"

"You wouldn't want him green with envy, rile him up, making him slip, so we can get rid of him? Let him see what he can never have?" Lucifer's smile was beautifully cruel and it made Sam go weak in the knees.

"You're trying to play me, love. Stop it." Sam growled, trying to stop looking like a besotted fool. "Ask me nicely and I might, just might, say yes."

"You know how I love it when you do," Lucifer murmured, kissing Sam's shoulder. "And I might reward you for it. With a decent advance right about now, if you don't mind?"

"Sex with the hottest man in Hell?" Sam snaked an arm around Lucifer's neck, sliding into his lap. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I better watch the news? Or read a book?" Sam let out a squeak as Lucifer turned and landed Sam on his back in the bed. "Then again, maybe not," Sam moaned and willingly made that yes utterly superfluous as he pulled off Lucifer's shirt to get his hands on his lover.

*

Lucifer walked down the corridor, Inias and Sam behind him. Most of the other prisoners were lounging in their cells or talking or playing games at the few tables under the windows in the wide corridor. It was almost like any other Sunday. Sam knew it wouldn't last. He rarely indulged in petty schadenfreude, but today karma got to be the bitch of the year, and Sam loved that he'd be helping feeding her this delicious snack. The other prisoners moved away respectfully, letting Lucifer pass. Despite the quiet surface, the floor was almost vibrating with a tense anticipation; it was the perfect day to stir up a fight. A few of Lucifer's Angels were following them, trailing behind, walking slowly, ready to step in if necessary. Outside Zachariah's cell, Lucifer stopped. "Inias, stay."

Obediently Inias stepped aside, knowing already what he was supposed to do. He leaned against the wall, two of the other Angels at his side. "Ready."

Lucifer hadn't anticipated any immediate retribution from Zachariah, but they'd rather be safe than sorry. Lucifer nodded once, a determined nod. "Let's go." He knocked once on the cell door, then opened it. Zachariah was sitting on his bed, reading the paper. His cellmate was resting.

Sam kicked at the bed. "You. Out!" The other prisoner took one look at the guests, then fled, no complaint. Clever man.

Lucifer waited until the door was shut behind the other prisoner. "Let's be brief. You know how much I appreciate you, Zach," Lucifer said, actually sounding as if he meant it. "I think, however, that you need to step back, you know... take it easy. Let some of the young test their wings, so to speak. I wouldn't like to see you hurt because I've put too much strain on you."

"But," Zachariah began, looking suspicious, "why? Is it-".

He was cut off immediately by Sam. "I don't think my boyfriend was done talking," Sam said and smiled sweetly.

Lucifer's mouth curled, as if it pleased him that Sam was being bossy. "I wasn't. As you know, Zach, I've got this gorgeous boyfriend and he... " Lucifer made a telling smile and pulled Sam closer, looking deeply into his eyes, provocatively groping his ass. "Mmm, baby, you're so damned hot, you're going to be the death of me," Lucifer whispered, loud enough for Zach to hear. "Oh, sorry... where was I? Yes, I'm busy keeping Sammy happy, and I don't want to let you get weighed down by too much responsibility, _dear_ friend. I am going to rely very much on my enforcer in the future, being busy with other things. I've decided that you are going to be replaced."

"Come on, Luce," Sam whispered, making sure Zach could hear, "fire the jerk and let's get back to the cell. I want you to fuck me so hard. You know how much I love that."

Sending a glance at Zachariah, Sam was satisfied with the expression he'd caused. Zachariah was seething. Clearly a proactive Sam didn't sit well with him.

"Yes, right. Like my baby says, I have to let you go. I have a new right hand man." Lucifer played the besotted, older man to the hilt, looking at Sam as if he was the second coming of Christ. "See you later, Zach. We should just leave you alone, yeah? You know, so you can get used to being retired. Come by later, you know, to let Inias in on his duties."

"No, no, no. Wait, I-" Zachariah got up, a big, fake smile plastered on his face. "I'm fully-"

"I'm sure you are. But Inias is my enforcer now, Zach. I'll-"

"Lucifer?" Sam whined, making his best slutty rent boy expression. As he had little experience in the field, he hoped it worked.

"Later," Lucifer said, dismissing Zach's pleas. He slid his hand down Sam's arm, taking his hand, his attention focused entirely on Sam. It would have been extremely flattering had they not been doing this to provoke a reaction from Zachariah. "Come on, darling. I think we can manage getting you a bit of you-know-what before visiting hours." Lucifer pulled Sam with him out the door. It closed behind them with a deep thud; hopefully not a warning about impending doom.

"Step two," Lucifer said as they passed Inias on the way back through the corridor. Lucifer nodded in the direction of Zachariah's cell. "I want to know who he speaks to and where he goes. Get four reliable men to watch him in the yard. Don't let him take as much as a wrong step without telling me where it went. If he heads for my cell, let him, but be ready if he tries to get inside. And keep everybody else away from it. The show is meant for him, not for the entire floor."

"He'll come running to argue with you within an hour, Lucifer. That's how he is. We'll be watching him. I think it's safe to assume he'll get a message to Alastair, or the other way around, Crowley should have booted Alastair by now. We'll look for any exchanges, too." Inias put a hand on Lucifer's arm. "I won't let you down, cousin."

"I know, Inias." Lucifer embraced Inias, one arm around his shoulder. "I know. Be careful. Zach might look harmless, but we all know what he's capable of. The man has only one goal, and that's getting what's good for Zachariah." Lucifer eyed Zachariah's door. "We better get back. Prepare for showtime."

Yeah, that was it. Showtime. Sam still wasn't sure he really wanted to let himself be caught _in flagrante_ by Zachariah. Then again, Sam felt an undeniable thrill by the thought of being watched, rubbing Zachariah's nose in what he could never have. Lucifer liked the idea, too, which was a big part of the thrill. No doubt that Lucifer got off of it, manipulating Zach into a fit of rage. 

"Did I come across as too vacant?" Sam asked as they walked back to the cell, pushing away the thought of having semi-public sex very soon. He was quite embarrassed already with the way he'd played scatter-brained sex-bunny in heat. "God, if Dean had seen me like that, he'd never let me hear the end of it." Sam laughed, happy in the knowledge that he'd be able to tell Dean at some point; glad to have Dean teasing him about anything he'd like.

"I promise I won't tell him. If you satisfy my every need when we get back to our cell." Lucifer sent Sam an evil grin that almost made him fear what Lucifer had in mind. "And your acting was perfect."

"You can be damned sure I am going to satisfy you," Sam stated firmly. "Says a lot about your mad sex skills that you actually got me hard in front of that swine. And that I actually still thought you were hot, playing all head over heels for me."

"I _am_ head over heels for you, I just don't let it cloud my judgment. Not much acting to that." Lucifer stopped in front of their cell, pausing to open the observation window and the service hatch. He pushed the cell door open, grabbing Sam's arm, pulling him inside. His back hit the wall before he could say or do anything. "Want me to show you how much?" Lucifer purred.

"I fear you have ulterior motives," Sam groaned, aroused. He buried his fingers in Lucifer's hair, pulling it none too gently, leaning in to lick at the soft skin of his lover's throat. "Better make a damned good job of it, then." He thrust his hips forward, grinding against Lucifer's cock. It was deliciously hard, probably from the thought of showing off. Fuck, Lucifer was a pervert. "You know, other people buy Ferraris or Mercs to show their friends when they wanna brag," Sam moaned, undulating his hip, rubbing against Lucifer, wanting more contact.

"I have all the Ferraris I could possibly want. Don't think my flashing my '63 GTO 250 will make Zach wanna kill me, although it is a very nice car. And I don't want to come inside it, either. Then again..." Lucifer smirked. "If I could fit you into it, then it'd be... interesting."

"Christ, you're such a-"

"Yeah," Lucifer said and pushed his hand down Sam's pants, wrapping his hand around Sam's cock, squeezing it hard. "I am."

Sam did little but to moan as Lucifer undressed him, distracting him with deep kisses and harsh strokes. The air was cold, but Sam was sweating already, Lucifer's touches hot against his skin. It didn't make it less hot when Lucifer sank down on his knees, taking Sam's cock between his lips. Sucking it lightly, letting his tongue slide over the head, playing with the slit, Lucifer made Sam forget everything except for the slick, warm feeling around his dick, the silken texture of hair as Sam pulled Lucifer closer, thrusting into the mouth offered up to him. Fingers encased his balls, squeezing and pulling, and Sam knew he couldn't hold back for long if Lucifer carried on like that. "Bed?" Sam gasped. "Before you get the best of me too early."

Pulling back, Lucifer looked up at Sam and winked. "That's not the best of you." He pressed the tip of his finger against Sam's hole. "I can think of something even better."

"Mff," was just about all Sam could manage, opening up as Lucifer's finger went in an inch. "Luc- fuck!"

"On the bed, yes." Lucifer pulled out and stood. "I'd like you there, on your back, your legs open for me." He smiled, almost a sneer, and Sam knew what he could expect. It made him weak from lust when Lucifer got all rough and dominant. "Like that," Lucifer said when Sam lay down, pillows under his head. Sam spread his legs wider, moving his hips a bit, feeling the hold he had on Lucifer; he was just as entangled in their lust and love as Sam.

Stripping quickly, Lucifer stepped up to the bed, a small bottle and a string of condoms in one hand. He put a knee on the bed, leaning in to trail a finger along Sam's inner thigh, teasing along the side of his balls, over his cock. Sam hissed and closed his eyes, biting his lip to hold in the moans he wanted to save for later. "You're so beautiful," Lucifer murmured. "So strong." The finger slid over Sam's stomach, around his nipples, the barest touch of a nail scratching to harden them. "Hands over your head," Lucifer demanded. "Keep them there. Move them and I stop."

His back a tense arch, needing Lucifer's touch, Sam did as he was told. He crossed his wrists, pressing the back of his hands against the wall behind his head. "Yours," Sam whispered, giving Lucifer the permission he needed. Right there and then, Sam was Lucifer's, ready for anything his lover wanted from him. The promise of pleasure made Sam push aside the distracting thoughts about why they were here in the first place, doing this. It didn't matter; he just wanted to be desired. God, he loved to be wanted like this. "Please."

Straddling his lover, Lucifer bent down to let his lips brush over Sam's mouth, not allowing him the kisses he hungered for. His erection stood hard and ready, and Lucifer reached down, stroking himself slowly, open-handed, seductive moves. A drop of pre-come fell on his stomach, one drop, making Sam shiver.

"Please," Sam whispered, unable to look away from Lucifer.

"Tell me you want it, Sammy. Beg for it." Lucifer pressed his cock down a bit, moving forward, as if to thrust it into Sam's mouth. "Or perhaps you'd rather I gag you with this?" Rubbing his ass against Sam's dick, he leaned forward to finally allow Sam a brief, hard kiss. "What will it be, Sam?"

Sam groaned, protesting. Sam had kept his need for Lucifer hidden for so long that it was impossible for him not to show how much he wanted him. Now, with Lucifer naked over him, Sam was desperate for more. "Please, yes! I want it. Fuck me, Lucifer. Just do it." Sam spread his legs wide open, rubbing his wet cock against Lucifer's stomach. He panted harshly at the sensation, arching up from the bed to get more.

"Oh, no. We don't play that way." Lucifer pulled back a little, preventing Sam from frotting against him. "Ask me nicely. Be precise." Lucifer smirked, the heat in his eyes betraying him. He wanted this as much as Sam did. Opening the bottle, Lucifer smeared oil over his fingers, teasing Sam's hole with the tip of them before he pushed inside.

"You're cruel." Sam let Lucifer thrust into him, relaxing as two, then three fingers were curling inside him, opening him. He wanted to reach for his lover, but he didn't think that Lucifer would reward him if he did. He pressed his wrists closer together, wrapping his fingers around the corner of a pillow. Looking Lucifer in the eye, trying not to act on his arousal, Sam licked his lips again, seductively this time. He liked how it made Lucifer look hungry. "I want you to fuck me, _please_. I want you to thrust your cock into me until I come on it. I want your cock deep in my ass. Please, Lucifer." Sam's pride was still intact. He would beg because Lucifer wanted him to beg. And right now there was little Sam would rather do that please the man he wanted so much.

Lucifer was clearly affected by the direct plea. "God, you're so hot, Sam." Lucifer groaned, his cock twitching against his stomach. "Like that, submitting to me... Fuck!"

Even in his aroused state, wanting Lucifer to fuck into him, Sam realized how much power he held over Lucifer. He'd been a bit insecure, when he'd found out how much his submission turned Lucifer on, not knowing what to say or how to beg nicely. Now? Sam knew that a word could crush Lucifer, that refusal would equal failure, Lucifer failing to give Sam exactly what he needed. A turn of phrase could destroy him, for Lucifer bared himself right there and then. It was beautiful that it made Lucifer so vulnerable. It made Sam want to give in to his lover. All the way.

Splaying his hands over Sam's chest, Lucifer raked his nails downwards, leaving little welts of pleasure as his hands came to rest on Sam's hip. Fingers curled in, harshly, around Sam's hipbones and he hissed at the pain, wanting more, much more. And Sam knew how to get it; to get it all, he had to offer it all. "Lucifer," he moaned low in his throat, stretching, offering his body up as were it a delicious dish to feast on. "It's all yours. Do what you like with me. Fuck me. Lick me. Take me in any way you want. Make me suck you. Come in my mouth or my ass. All yours." The last words were murmured into a scorching kiss as Lucifer decided to ravage his mouth.

"Yeah, baby," Lucifer said hoarsely, trying to breathe. "Like that. Give it to me."

Sam knew what Lucifer meant. He knew how much that one little word made Lucifer lose it. "Yes." He looked up at Lucifer, knowing that Lucifer saw both his strength and his pride, his pliancy and his need. "Yes, Lucifer. All yours. All of me. _Yes_."

"Sam!" Lucifer moaned Sam's name, closing his eyes, as if that one word in itself, the affirmation that Sam belonged to him, was enough to bring him pleasure. "God! I want you so bad." With shaking hands, Lucifer managed to roll on a condom, slicking himself with oily fingers.

"You have me," Sam managed. "And could you please, _please_ , fuck me blind _right_ now?"

The only reply was Lucifer, teasing the tip of his cock against Sam's slick, open hole, before he slammed inside: hard, ruthless, passionate.

Trashing, clutching at the pillow and the mattress, Sam fought the pain and the surprise, feeling full, complete. Lucifer's cock was long and hard and fit inside him perfectly. Shaking, Sam let out the moan he'd been holding in: a far too loud sound of lust and urgency. "Fuck, yes." It overwhelmed him how much he wanted Lucifer. "Ram it in me!"

Setting a fast, unrelenting rhythm, Lucifer started thrusting into Sam. It was neither gentle, nor careful, but it was precisely what Sam needed. The sound of Lucifer's hips slapping against his ass and the feeling of oil dripping down his cheeks as Lucifer thrust his thick cock into him were driving Sam mad with lust. He wanted to wrap his arms around Lucifer, to entangle his fingers in his lover's hair, wanted to touch his skin. But Sam wasn't allowed and it made it even more alluring. He'd given himself up to Lucifer, knowing they'd be watched and it aroused him in ways he hadn't counted on. Almost felt like an electric current as he pressed his hands hard against the cold wall, wrists still crossed like Lucifer had demanded. "Can't wait until you tie me up for real," Sam moaned hoarsely, tilting his head to one side, offering his neck up to Lucifer to bite or kiss as he pleased.

"You'd like that, Sammy?" Lucifer moaned, hardening inside Sam, slamming into him with so much force that Sam had to brace himself against the wall. "You'd like me to tie you up and fuck you hard? To use you for my pleasure when you writhe in your ties?" Lucifer was whispering, his voice shaking, revealing how aroused he was by the thought. "I'd leave you fucked and full of come and then, when I wanted to, I'd fuck you again, slick with lube and my come, nothing you could do about it but take it. You'd like that?" Lucifer's voice broke. "Dammit, Sam. Can't- Oh, fuckdammit! I'll give you everything you want... just, I can't... Oh!" Lucifer was fucking Sam in earnest now, no finesse, nothing but pure, raw need.

Sam, too, was close, so very close. Lucifer knew how to drive him to the limit of what he could stand. Pain, pleasure, submission... everything was perfect, and Sam was ready, he just needed Lucifer to come first, wanted the feeling of Lucifer emptying himself inside his twitching ass. Then Sam made the mistake of looking up. Behind the small window in the door somebody was watching them. Zachariah. Sam froze, his eyes wide. He'd known that it could happen; it was a part of the trap they'd made. But the angry face, filled with such hatred and lust was too much, and Sam moved his hands to push Lucifer away.

Lucifer immediately knew what was happening. "Tell me to stop if you really want this to end. But... Sam... Stay with me. Here. Us." Lucifer thrust in again, slowly, before pulling out, almost. _Don't let him win_ , Lucifer's eyes said. It was a warning. "You're mine. Look at me."

The slide of Lucifer's cock into his body, agonizingly slow movements, like the lull of lazy waves, placated Sam, relaxed him, and he was able to concentrate on Lucifer, pushing aside the knowledge that Zachariah was watching them. He locked eyes with Lucifer. "Yes. Not done yet. Want more. Want you."

"Do you trust me, baby?" Lucifer was whispering the endearment ever so softly.

In the haze of anger and pleasure Sam held on to that thought. Of course he trusted Lucifer. He loved him. "Yes. Explicitly."

Lucifer laughed, a ragged laughter, mixed up with moans as he fucked harder into Sam. "Leave it to my Sam to use four-syllable words when he shouldn't be able to speak at all."

"Fuck eloquence," Sam growled. "Fuck _me_." He offered himself up, stretching seductively. He didn't care who saw as long as Lucifer was pleased. It was no longer a secret how deep he'd fallen. "I want you!"

"Then look at him, at Zachariah." Lucifer's expression turned feral and wild. "Let him watch when I make you come. Let him see how it feels when I show you how much I love you. Show him you're mine." Lucifer stopped moving. Tenderly he caressed Sam's cheek. "And let me prove that I'm yours. I will allow no one to come between us, Sam. _No one_. Show him," Lucifer whispered, "that he can never have you because you belong to me."

It was like being devoured by flames, Lucifer's love, almost too much, too hot and painful and hard. But when there was just the two of them, when Sam drowned in the feelings he had for his lover, then it was the most exhilarating ride and Sam couldn't get enough. Lucifer was everything Sam had ever wanted: strong enough, passionate enough, loyal enough and Sam loved it, to be caught in the inferno that was Lucifer Alighieri. Sam was at his limit. "I'm gonna come... Lucifer, I'm gonna come!" Sam's breath hitched, he was choking on his moans, fighting to hold back, struggling to keep his hands in place, wanting to be Lucifer's to do with as he pleased. Sam wanted to show off what Lucifer gave him willingly, letting the bastard who'd tried to ruin his life know what love could be like when one finally wanted it all. "I fucking love you." Sam cried out, his body taut with the orgasm tingling along his spine.

Lucifer thrust a few times, so brutal it made Sam whimper. Then Lucifer tensed, throaty moans breathed against the skin of Sam's neck as he pushed deep inside, coming hard. Sam let himself go, too, eyes closed, his come spurting across Lucifer's stomach and chest. Not waiting for permission, Sam wrapped his arms around Lucifer's neck, at last taking the kisses he wanted from his lover.

When Sam opened his eyes again, Zachariah was gone.

*

"Come on, Sammy, visiting hours will be a visiting quarter if you don't put some clothes on." Lucifer didn't let go of Sam. Wearing nothing but a towel after a quick shower, Sam tried to free himself from Lucifer's embrace.

"If you stop impersonating an octopus, I'm sure I'll do fine." Kissing Lucifer briefly, Sam escaped, grabbing a clean shirt and a fresh pair of orange pants. "And don't accuse me of taking my time deciding what to wear." Sam threw on the prison uniform, stepping into a pair of slip-ons. "Finished. And still five minutes to go. Why is it that I need to go, again? Nobody comes to visit me."

"Cas's coming. Of course he'd like to see you again, now that he's met you. You do that to people," Lucifer said, stealing yet another kiss.

Sam looked at Lucifer suspiciously. Okay, so he'd met Cas and liked him, but contact between them had been limited to the letters and documents that Lucifer had handed Sam after meetings with Castiel. "Why?" Sam didn't think he needed to gloss over the fact that he was curious to why things were changing for no apparent reason. He was safe from Zachariah in their cell. He didn't need to accompany Lucifer for protection and Sam could defend himself. He didn't need Lucifer for that, either. 

"Because." Lucifer said, evading the question. He thought better of it and continued with a proper explanation. "I want you to be there. It's important. Cas has brought a few things you need to look at."

They were interrupted by Inias, knocking on their door. Sam could see his face through the small observation window. "Let's go. Better not keep Inias waiting." Sam counted on Inias having an escort ready for them. From now on they had to watch their every step; retaliation from Zachariah and Alastair might come at the first opportune moment. They had to be very, very careful. Setting the plan in motion was risky indeed, but they could not afford to have their opponents staying in Hell. They had to go, no matter the cost. The disturbances the two conspirators could cause were just not acceptable.

Lucifer opened the heavy metal door and stepped out into the sunlit corridor. "Everything all right, Inias?"

"They talked for about ten seconds in the yard." Inias didn't have to elaborate. "They both have visitors, but they won't dare do anything, not in the visitor's room. I doubt that they've had time to plot anything, but they might have agreed on some kind of action, foreseeing the development."

"We'll be careful. You stay with us, two of my Angels have our backs."

"We still think they're going for me, yes?" Sam started walking towards the door at the end of the corridor.

"They probably think you're the easier target." Inias laughed. "They're going to be so disappointed. You fight like you've fought all your life, at least that's what the Demons say, those who saw you take down six of them in that bathroom before they got Alastair to step in."

"They aren't entirely wrong," Sam said. "Can't deny that I've been in a fight or two before I got in here."

"I don't think one or two covers it," Inias said. "One or two hundred, perhaps." He should know. Inias probably had more experience in the matter than most of their fellow inmates.

Sam didn't deny it. Two hundred was a low estimate anyway. Came with being a hunter of monsters and ghosts.

They were delayed at the entrance control, waiting in line for the scanner. Sunday's visiting hours were usually busy and today was no exception. The small hall in front of the visitor's room was quickly filled with prisoners, looking forward to seeing family and friends. Sam looked through the tall glass windows for Castiel, but he hadn't arrived yet. Lucifer's hand rested at Sam's back, strangely possessive. Sam didn't mind. It felt good to belong.

Prisoners from the other wings were standing in line in front of yet another set of scanners, and Sam wasn't worried much when he spotted Alastair next to them. Inias and Lucifer plus a few Angels were watching Alastair's every move. 

The throng of men suddenly parted as Zachariah moved up the line.

"Careful," Inias warned. "He looks relaxed, but he might want to cause a scene."

"If he wants to complain, let him. He'll only make a fool of himself." Lucifer shrugged, like Zachariah meant nothing to him. Sam wasn't particularly fond of Lucifer when he went all superior and arrogant; then again, Zachariah was a particularly disgusting kind of bug. If Lucifer wanted to step on him, Sam was all for it. Hell, he'd fetch Lucifer a pair of heavy boots and tie them for him if that could help crush Zachariah.

It was as if the other prisoners sensed the tension. A few shuffled back; Zachariah was clearly the prison leper already. Sam didn't have it in him to feel sorry for the asshole. Zachariah was a special kind of mean, one Sam wanted removed from his life. Sam reached for Lucifer, putting a hand on his arm. Support, exchange of strength, confirmation, Sam didn't know. It was like he needed the touch to create a bulwark to put between himself and the hatred that shone in Zachariah's eyes, directed at him with a staggering force. Sam didn't even want to consider what would happen to him, did he fall into Zachariah's hands, not that he'd ever let that happen and neither would Lucifer.

It was as if time had turned into this sticky, thick porridge. Slow motion. Sam registered Alastair next to Zachariah, cruel eyes and hatred, another set. The world was narrow, leaving only room for the two men that Sam loathed more than any other living beings, the asshole that had beaten Dean into a coma as the only possible exception.

Then time continued its relentless travel towards the inevitable.

They all saw it, for Inias was moving to protect Sam even before it happened and by then it was already too late. The knife that Crowley had warned them about was changing hands, a brief touch of Alastair's palm against Zachariah's. An instant was all it took and Zachariah lunged. Cold steel flashed as Zachariah lashed out, the switchblade sharp and deadly.

Only the attack wasn't aimed at Sam. He realized it only too late, how Zachariah's hatred shifted, almost like a spotlight directed at Lucifer. No! Sam couldn't allow that to happen. He could not lose the man he loved, not now, not after all they'd gone through.

"Stop!" Sam didn't hesitate. He threw himself in front of Lucifer, trying to stop the assault, shielding Lucifer with his body. Sam's fist hit Zachariah in the face, only too late. There was a stinging sensation, something wet trickling down his skin. Sam looked down. The knife slid in, hard steel against butter-soft flesh, and all Sam could feel was this cold, frozen pain in his side. He was drowning in melting ice, his breath frozen too, no air left, only pain.

Far, far away he could hear Alastair cry out, Inias must have hit him, and then this sad sound, like condensed sorrow, Lucifer's desperate, "Sam? Sammy?"

Lucifer was alive, that was all Sam could think of. Then he could no longer breathe and he went under, sinking into a stone-cold darkness.

*

There were things and events in his life that Sam would like to have set on repeat. There were others he definitely didn't want to experience for the second time, or the third or fourth, and waking up in a hospital bed was one of them. He'd been here before, in Hell's hospital wing, beaten and abused and second time around wasn't that much better. He didn't even care to open his eyes to confirm the location, the beeping of monitors and the pressure of the IV needle in his hand was enough. The throbbing, dull pain of the wound in his side reminded him that he probably should be grateful to be alive. Dizzy from the anesthetic, Sam tried to make his brain work properly. He needed to speak to... someone. He needed to know if Lucifer was all right, that Inias had made it through the fight too. Only everything seemed so far away. Sunlight was dancing brightly, the sun warm on his face. If he kept his eyes closed, he could imagine that he was somewhere else, somewhere without barred windows and heavy steel doors. Somewhere without Lucifer.

The thought made it hurt even worse than the stab wound in his chest. "Lucifer," Sam whispered, wanting his lover by his side, wanting the comfort and the care.

"You awake, Sammy?" a gruff voice asked. There was some shuffling, as if a chair was moved.

A warm hand touched Sam's, making him flinch at the unfamiliar touch. Something was wrong with that voice. It wasn't Lucifer's. Sam kicked his brain in gear, trying to remember. He turned his hand, his calloused hand against a hand that seemed soft and unused.

Suddenly everything felt very right.

Sam opened his eyes, blinking against the clear sun. "Dean?"

"Welcome back, kiddo." Dean squeezed Sam's hand lightly, clearly not as forceful as he once were, but he was there, alive, next to Sam's bed.

"Dean, is that really you?" Sam fought weakly to sit up, ignoring the pain. "I'm dead and we're in Heaven?" Sam closed his hand tighter around Dean's hand. It felt very real.

"Highly unlikely," somebody else commented dryly. "Lucifer's here too. And there surely is a ticket to a downstairs seat waiting for _him_."

"Cas, don't mess with my brother; he's barely awake." Dean was smiling, the left side of his face lagging a bit, making the smile strangely wry.

"Hello, Cas." Sam waved sluggishly with the hand that Dean wasn't clinging to. "And thank you." Sam looked at Dean. Nothing else needed to be said.

"My pleasure," Cas said, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. It lay there, almost as a sign or a promise. "I am very happy that you entrusted me with your brother, Sam."

"Sure you are, now piss off and let me have some time alone with Sam. Go visit Inias, he's expecting you. You can come back tomorrow. I'm not allowed the same courtesy." Lucifer took the sting out of the words by embracing his brother. "Did you bring it?" he asked cryptically, holding out a hand. "I'd rather have done this with you and Dean attending, but-"

Castiel stepped back, pulling something out of a pocket in the old trench coat he was wearing. He truly didn't look like a multimillionaire. "Of course. You beat me to it. Then again, Dean probably wouldn't..."

Lucifer laughed. "I guess you're right about that." He patted Castiel on the shoulder, very big-brotherly. "It's just a question of knowing what you want and then go get it. You should learn from that, little brother."

Watching the exchange between the two Alighieri-brothers, Sam turned and looked at Dean, happiness bubbling inside him. "You and Cas?" Sam asked, keeping his voice low. "Really?"

"Maybe," Dean said enigmatically. "He's cute." He looked at Cas in a way that belied his reluctance. "He pulled me out of a living hell, Sam. He's like Jesus friggin' Christ to me." Dean let go of Sam's hand, only to let Castiel take it and help him stand.

"Seeing that you don't believe in religion, I'm not sure it's a compliment. But yeah, I get that." Sam was grateful for what Castiel had done for them. "You'll come back and visit soon? Both of you?"

"Tomorrow," Castiel promised. "Special permission from the warden." He helped Dean across the floor to the door. He knocked, waiting for the guard to let them out. 

"Why am I not surprised?" Sam laughed, regretting it immediately as his wounds reminded him that he was in a hospital bed for a reason. He watched Dean and Castiel disappear, finally leaving him alone with Lucifer, not that he hadn't wanted them to stay. But Lucifer probably had little time before the guards took him back to their cell. Sam sighed deeply, leaning back into the crisp, white sheets. "Dean... I'd never thought I... Lucifer, thank you. For that and for... everything."

Lucifer sat down in the chair where Dean had been sitting. "You were willing to sacrifice your life for me, and _you_ are thanking me?" Leaning in, he kissed Sam on the lips, a gentle kiss. "Alastair and Zachariah have been moved. They are both getting consecutive sentences for what they did. Attempted murder doesn't come cheap."

"I'm glad. We can call it even, then." Sam slid his arm around Lucifer's neck. "If you promise there will be no more saving. Or no more reason to." Sam breathed in Lucifer's scent as if to reaffirm that he was there.

"Some would say that you'd need saving from me," Lucifer said, taking Sam's hand between both of his. "From this."

Sam felt something hard and cold press into his palm. He looked up at Lucifer, one eyebrow making a questioning arch on his brow.

"It was my father's ring," Lucifer said quietly. "Now it's my promise to you. When we are both out of here, I want this—us—to be official. Marriage." The look Lucifer sent Sam could melt icebergs. "I love you, Sam. Please, say yes."

Sam had almost been killed for the man he loved. He'd been warned repeatedly that he should stay away from Lucifer. But he'd fallen into temptation and then, unexpectedly, in love. There was no going back.

Sam could think of only one answer, one Lucifer would like very much.


End file.
